UC-NRLF 


HARRIET  BEECHERSTOWE 

MARTHA  FOOTE  CROW 


HAKKUOT  HKECHKK  STOWE  IN  1802 


HARRIET 
BLLCHLR  STOWL 

A   BIOGRAPHY   FOR    GIRLS 


BY 

MARTHA  FOOTL  CROW 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

D.  APPLLTON  AND  COMPANY 

1913 


COPYRIGHT,  1013,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


1413 

MAIM 


TO 

E.  L.  F. 


300059 


PREFACE 

Thanks  are  very  heartily  due  to  Messrs.  Houghton, 
Mifflin  and  Company,  the  publishers  of  the  works  of 
Mrs.  Stowe,  for  their  kind  permission  to  quote  freely 
from  her  books,  and  from  the  biographies  of  Mrs. 
Stowe  written  by  her  son,  Rev.  Charles  E.  Stowe,  and 
by  her  grandson,  Mr.  Lyman  Beecher  Stowe.  The 
same  publishers  have  given  permission  to  make  an 
abstract  of  "Cleon,"  the  play  by  Harriet  Beecher, 
which  is  found  in  the  "Life  and  Letters  of  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe"  by  Annie  Fields,  of  which  they  are 
the  publishers.  Messrs.  Harper  and  Brothers  have 
also  been  good  enough  to  allow  quotation  from  the 
"Autobiography  and  Correspondence  of  Lyman 
Beecher."  To  Miss  E.  N.  Vanderpoel,  the  compiler 
of  "Chronicles  of  a  Pioneer  School,"  the  author 
wishes  to  acknowledge  her  indebtedness  for  some  in 
teresting  passages. 

The  author  has  also  greatly  appreciated  the  per 
mission  given  by  Mr.  John  R.  Howard  to  quote  a 
short  passage  about  childhood  experiences  in  the 
Beecher  home  found  in  his  valuable  sketch  of  the 
Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beecher. 

To  Mr.  Charles  E.  Stowe,  the  author  hereby  makes 
vii 


PREFACE 

grateful  acknowledgment  for  much  helpful  advice, 
and  for  material  not  hitherto  published.  From  many 
friends  in  Litchfield,  Guilford,  Hartford  and  else 
where,  the  writer  of  this  book  has  received  invaluable 
help  and  would  be  glad  to  acknowledge  each  one's 
contribution  if  there  were  space  to  do  so.  The 
frontispiece  is  made  from  an  old  carte  de  visile  kindly 
lent  by  Mrs.  Hannah  C.  Partridge,  of  Hartford, 
Connecticut. 

Without  these  bountiful  sources  of  information  and 
these  privileges  so  graciously  allowed,  a  book  of  this 
kind  could,  of  course,  not  have  been  written.  Where- 
ever  possible  the  language  of  Mrs.  Stowe  herself  has 
been  quoted  or  adapted  from  the  rich  treasury  of  her 
correspondence  and  autobiographical  writings,  or 
from  stories  of  her  own.  Among  these  the  "Lyman 
Beecher  Autobiography"  fixes  forever  a  composite 
portrait  of  the  Beecher  family  and  is  an  almost  in 
exhaustible  storehouse  of  material.  Among  Mrs. 
Stowe's  books,  the  childhood  experiences  of  Tina,  in 
"Oldtown  Folks"  and  of  Dolly  in  "Poganuc  People" 
have  been  a  veritable  panorama  of  the  young  life  of 
Harriet  herself.  Indeed,  so  largely  do  her  books  re 
flect  not  only  her  ideas  and  emotions  but  even  the  ob 
jective  incidents  of  her  life,  that  many  of  them  are 
almost  autobiographic  in  their  character. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  OUTLINE  OF  MRS. 
STOWE'S  LIFE 

*-*../ 
1811,  June  14.     Harriet  Elizabeth  Beecher  was  born 

in  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  daughter  of  Rev. 
Dr.  Lyman  Beecher. 

1816.  Death  of  her  mother,  Roxana  Foote  Beecher. 
1816-1818.     Harriet  attends  Dame  School. 

1817.  Arrival  of  Harriet's  stepmother,  Harriet  Por 

ter  Beecher. 

1823.  Harriet's  essay  on  Immortality  read  at  school 
exhibition. 

1816,  1822,  1825,  1826,  1827.  Visits  to  Foote  home 
stead  at  Nut  Plains,  hear  Guilford,  Connecti 
cut. 

1824-1832.  Harriet  as  pupil  and  afterwards  as  teach 
er  at  her  sister  Catherine's  school  in  Hart 
ford. 

1825.  Harriet  writes  a  drama  in  blank  verse  called 
"Cleon." 

1825.  Harriet  becomes  a  member  of  the  First  Church 
in  Hartford. 

1826-1832.     Pastorate    of   Dr.    Beecher   at    Hanover 
Street   Church  in   Boston.     Harriet's   vaca 
tions  at  Boston  and  Guilford. 
ix 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

1832-1852.  Dr.  Beecher  head  of  Lane  Theological 
Seminary  at  Cincinnati,  Ohio.  Residence  of 
family  at  Walnut  Hills,  suburb  of  Cincinnati. 

1832-1834.  Catherine  and  Harriet  found  a  school  at 
Cincinnati. 

1833.  Harriet  a  member  of  the  Semi-colon  Club. 

1834.  Harriet   receives  a  prize   for  her  first  short 

story. 

1833.  Harriet  visits  a  plantation  in  Kentucky  and 
sees  slave  life. 

1836,  January.  Marriage  of  Professor  C.  E.  Stowe 
and  Harriet  Beecher. 

1836,  September.  Birth  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  twin  daugh 
ters,  Harriet  Beecher  and  Eliza  Tyler. 

1838,  January.     Birth  of  her  third  child,  Henry  Ellis. 

1840,  May.  Birth  of  her  fourth  child,  Frederick  Wil 
liam. 

1843.  Death  of  her  brother,  George,  by  accidental 
shooting. 

1836-1850.     Years  of  sickness,  poverty  and  struggle. 

1843,  July.     Birth  of  her  fifth  child,  Georgiana  May. 

1843.     Publication  of  her  first  book  of  stories. 

1846-1847.  Resort  to  a  sanatorium  in  Vermont  for 
her  health. 

1848,  January.     Birth    of    her    sixth    child,    Samuel 

Charles. 

1849.  Cholera  epidemic  in  Cincinnati;  death  of  her 

youngest  child. 

x 


OUTLINE    OF    MRS.    STOWE'S    LIFE 

1850-1852.  Residence  of  the  Stowe  famiply  in  Bruns 
wick,  Maine.  Professor  Stowe  at  Bowdoin 
College. 

1850,  July.  Birth  of  her  seventh  child,  Charles  Ed 
ward. 

1850.     The  Fugitive  Slave  Law  and  slavery  agitation. 

1850,  Mrs.   Stowe's  vision  of   Uncle  Tom's  death; 

writes  first  chapter. 

1851,  June— 1852,  April.     "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  ap 

pears  as  a  serial  in  "National  Era." 

1852,  March  10.     Publication  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cab 

in"  in  book  form. 

1852-1853.     300,000  copies  sold  in  United  States. 

1852,  August.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  selling  in  Eng 
land  at  rate  of  1,000  a  week. 

1852.  Mrs.    Stowe    in    New    York    aiding    escaped 

slaves. 

1852-1863.  Residence  of  Stowe  family  in  Andover, 
Mass.  Professor  Stowe  in  Andover  Theo 
logical  Seminary. 

1853,  April-August.     Professor  and  Mrs.  Stowe  trav 

eling  in  England  and  Scotland. 

1853,  May.  Meeting  at  Stafford  House,  London. 
"Address"  of  500,000  English  women,  and 
the  "shackle-bracelet"  presented  to  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe. 

1855-1856.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  aiding  in  the  anti- 
slavery  campaign  in  United  States. 

1856,     July — 1857,     June.     Traveling     in     England, 
France  and  Italy. 
xi 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

1856,  August.     Professor  and  Mrs.  Stowe  meet  Queen 

Victoria. 

1857,  June.     Death  by  drowning  of  their  son,  Henry 

Ellis. 

1859,  August — 1860,  July.    Traveling  in  Switzerland 
and  Italy. 

1861,  June.     Visits  her  son's  regiment  at  Jersey  City. 

1862,  November.     Visit  to  Washington.    The  Contra 

band  Dinner.     Visit  to  Abraham  Lincoln. 

1863,  July  ii.     Battle  of  Gettysburg.    Her  son,  Fred, 

struck  by  a  fragment  of  a  shell. 
1863-1870.     Residence  of  the  Stowe  family  in  Hart 
ford,  Connecticut. 

1864,  Mrs.  Stowe  becomes  an  attendant  of  the  Epis 

copal  Church. 

1869-1870.     The  Lady  Byron  Defence. 
1867-1886.     Spends  the  winters  in  Mandarin,  Florida. 
1872-1874.     Giving   public    readings    from    her   own 

works  in  New  England  and  the  west. 
1882,  June  14.     Garden  party  given  by  her  publishers 

at  the  residence  of  ex-Governor  and  Mrs. 

Claflin  at  Newtonville,  Mass.,  in  honor  of  her 

birthday. 
1886.    Death  of   Professor   Stowe,  of  her   brother, 

Henry  Ward  Beecher,  and  of  her  daughter, 

Georgiana  May. 
1896,  July  i.     Death  of  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  aged 

eighty-five,  at  Hartford,  Connecticut. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  EARLY  HOME  OF  HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE      i 

II.  WORK  AND  PLAY  IN  THE  BEECHER  PARSONAGE    16 

III.  HARRIET  BEECHER 's  SCHOOLING    .       .       .       .32 

IV.  EDUCATION  IN  THE  HOME 51 

V.  THE  BOOKS  SHE  READ 7o 

VI.  DRAMATIC  VENTURES 83 

VII.  STUDIES  AND  TEACHERS 96 

VIII.  SOME  STEPS  FORWARD  ....  .no 

IX.  A  PILGRIMAGE 122 

X.  THE  WESTERN  HOME 133 

XI.  THE  FOUNDERS  OF  A  SCHOOL 146 

XII.  THE  SEMI-COLONS 158 

XIII.  MRS.  STOWE  THE  HOME-MAKER    .       .       .       .171 

XIV.  UNCONSCIOUS  PREPARATION  FOR  A  WORK    .       .188 
XV.  THE  GREAT  INSPIRATION 204 

XVI.  "UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN"  AND  ITS  INFLUENCE       .  215 

XVII.  WANDERING  IN  FOREIGN  LANDS     .       .       .       .223 

XVIII.  A  UNIQUE  JUBILEE  .       .       .  .       .243 

XIX.  A  VISIT  TO  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN      .       .       .       .258 

XX.  WRITING  STORIES  OF  OLD  NEW  ENGLAND  LIFE  .  274 

XXI.  A  SERENE  OLD  AGE  *      ....       .       .       .  294 


Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 


CHAPTER   I 

THE    EARLY    HOME    OF    HARRIET   BEECHER 
STOWE 

IN  a  little  saucer-like  valley  of  the  lower  Berk- 
shires,  where  the  hills  stand  about  in  a  wide 
circle,  lies  that  most  beautiful  of  Connecticut 
villages,  Litchfield.  Here  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 
was  born.  There  was  not  a  day  when  she  and  her 
brothers  and  sisters  did  not  run  to  the  window  to  see 
that  blue  rim  of  hills,  and  even  when  they  were 
grown  into  women  and  men  they  did  not  forget  the 
charm  of  their  early  home  in  the  mountains.  From 
the  door  of  the  house  where  they  lived  there  was 
an  extended  view.  Here  Harriet  often  stood  and 
looked  over  to  the  distant  horizon,  where  Mt. 
Tom  reared  its  round,  blue  head  against  the  sky,  and 
the  Great  and  Little  Ponds  gleamed  out  amid  a 
steel-blue  expanse  of  distant  pine  groves.  Turning 
to  the  west,  she  saw  a  rounded  height  called  Pros- 

i 


BEECHER   STOWE 

Vr/any'ja  pensive,  wondering  hour  she 
sat  on  the  stone  threshold  of  that  doorway,  watch 
ing  the  splendor  of  the  sunsets  that  burned  them 
selves  out  beyond  that  hill.  Harriet  often  said 
that  her  home  was  at  the  precise  point  of  the  coun 
try  where  the  hills  were  most  inspiring  and  viva 
cious,  reminding  one  of  the  Psalm,  "The  little  hills 
rejoice  on  every  side."  Mountains  are  grand,  she 
thought,  and  sometimes  even  dreary ;  but  these  half- 
grown  hills  uplift  one  like  the  waves  of  the  sea. 

Once  when  Harriet  returned  by  stage-coach  from 
a  visit  to  her  relatives  down  in  Guilford,  she  could 
not  restrain  her  raptures  on  beholding  her  moun 
tains  again.  As  the  quaint  old  coach  went  lumber 
ing  along  the  winding  road,  the  keen-eyed  little  girl 
leaned  out  of  the  window,  peering  in  every  direc 
tion,  determined  to  let  no  bluebird's  flight  escape 
her  and  no  columbine  flower  pass  unadmired.  She 
took  in  all  the  sweeping  bends  of  the  beautiful 
brown  river  and  watched  the  curves  of  water  as 
they  flowed  over  the  shining  rocks.  After  a  while 
the  coach  wound  up  amid  hemlock  forests  whose 
solemn  shadows  were  all  aglow  with  pink  clouds  of 
blossoming  laurel.  Presently  they  entered  into  great 
vistas  of  mountains  whose  cloudy,  purple  heads 
stretched  and  veered  around  the  path  like  moving 
forms  in  a  dream.  There  were  the  hills  which 
meant  home.  Writing  about  this  years  afterward, 
she  cried  out,  "Can  there  be  anything  on  earth  as 
beautiful  as  these  mountain  rides  in  New  Eng- 

2 


EARLY    HOME 

land?"  So  she  gave  to  her  childhood's  home  the 
name  of  Cloudland,  and  its  inheritance  of  clear  air 
and  height  and  spaciousness  became  a  part  of  her 
nature. 

Any  one  would  have  loved  the  quiet  village  in 
1811,  the  year  when  Harriet  Beecher  was  born, 
with  the  large  Green  in  the  center  on  which  stood 
the  meeting-house  where  her  honored  father,  Dr. 
Lyman  Beecher,  preached.  From  here  extended  to 
the  four  points  of  the  compass  the  four  spacious 
avenues,  North,  South,  East,  and  West  Streets,  all 
of  them  thickly  planted  with  double  rows  of  fine  elm 
trees,  through  which  one  could  see  the  stately  co 
lonial  mansions  that  had  been  there  since  before  the 
days  of  the  Revolution. 

These  mansions  had  looked  upon  many  a 
thrilling  scene,  for  in  those  Revolutionary  days  the 
town  of  Litchfield  had  been  a  place  of  great  activ 
ity.  The  direct  state  road  from  Boston  across  to 
West  Point  and  thence  down  the  river  to  the  city 
of  New  York  passed  at  that  time  through  the  town, 
making  connection  with  the  station  for  military 
stores  that  were  kept  there.  So  on  training  days 
there  would  be  dramatic  episodes  on  the  ample 
Green,  while  on  many  a  dark  night  that  great  mes 
sage-bearer,  Paul  Revere,  would  ride  swiftly  and 
mysteriously  through  the  town. 

In  fact,  the  town  of  Litchfield,  in  the  days  of  the 
Beecher  family,  fairly  bristled  with  traditions  of 
that  ancient,  eventful  era.  It  is  certain  that  the 
2  3 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

little  Harriet  would  be  told  about  the  time  when  the 
service  of  war  had  claimed  all  the  men  in  the  patri 
otic  township  of  Litchfield  except  eight,  who  were 
too  old  or  too  young  to  go  out  and  fight.  It  must 
also  have  been  impressed  upon  her  that  the  women 
of  her  native  town  shared  in  an  especial  degree  this 
lofty  patriotism,  for  it  is  related  that  when  the 
leaden  statue  of  King  George  was  knocked  off  its 
pedestal  in  Bowling  Green,  in  New  York  City,  the 
shattered  pieces  were  conveyed  to  the  military  store 
house  at  Litchfield  and  there  hidden  away.  Then 
when  the  great  need  arose,  the  aristocratic  ladies  of 
Litchfield  melted  the  broken  fragments  of  that  re 
jected  statue  and  with  their  own  hands  molded  the 
lead  into  bullets.  Harriet's  heart  swelled  with 
pride  as  she  heard  this  story  or  as  she  passed  the 
very  house  where  the  lead  was  molded  over  or 
perhaps  was  shown  the  precious  memorandum  that 
indicated  how  many  thousand  bullets  each  helper 
had  made.  Litchfield,  indeed,  a  very  storehouse  of 
patriotic  tradition,  was  a  fitting  home  for  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe  whose  soul  was  to  be  a  perfect  flame 
of  patriotic  feeling  by  virtue  of  which  she  was  to 
perform  a  great  and  permanent  work. 

In  Harriet's  own  childhood,  too,  Litchfield  was  a 
very  busy  place.  There  were  some  forty  mills 
along  the  streams,  not  one  of  which  remains  to 
day,  and  there  was  a  famous  law  school,  the  first 
one  in  America,  and  a  celebrated  school  for  young 
ladies.  The  society  in  the  village  was  singularly 

4 


EARLY    HOME 

good;  it  was  a  place  where  piety,  intelligence,  and 
refinement  were  united.  Mrs.  Stowe,  remembering 
the  history  that  lay  back  of  it  in  Colonial  and  Revo 
lutionary  days,  spoke  of  it  as  "burning  like  live  coals 
with  all  the  fervid  activity  of  an  intense,  newly 
kindled,  peculiar  and  individual  life." 

Perhaps  one  would  realize  this  somewhat  better 
on  a  Sunday  than  on  a  week  day.  Then  from  the 
fine  old  residences  that  adorned  the  principal  street 
the  families  of  comfortable  means  and  impressive 
traditions  proceeded  in  a  dignified  manner  and  sol 
emnly  entered  the  little  church.  From  the  outlying 
population  for  miles  around  came  also  processions 
of  wagons,  bearing  the  well-dressed  wives,  stalwart 
sons  and  blooming  daughters  of  the  well-to-do 
farmers,  all  punctual  as  a  clock  to  the  ringing  of  the 
second,  bell.  They  were  alert-minded,  independent 
people;  it  was  a  highly  intelligent  audience  that 
gathered  to  hear  Dr.  Beecher  expound  problems  of 
theology,  which  his  hearers  were  quite  ready  to  de 
bate  with  him  if  they  thought  he  bent  a  little  too 
far  to  the  one  side  or  to  the  other  in  some  hair 
splitting  argument. 

The  parsonage  where  Dr.  Beecher  lived,  and 
where  seven  of  his  thirteen  children  were  born,  was 
a  roomy  edifice  that  seemed  to  have  been  built  by  a 
succession  of  afterthoughts.  It  was  first  a  model 
New  England  house,  built  around  a  great  brick 
chimney  which  ran  up  like  a  lighthouse  in  the  center 
of  the  square  roof;  but  various  bedroom  additions 

5 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

had  been  gradually  made  and  a  new  kitchen  had 
been  built  on,  and  out  of  the  kitchen  a  sinkroom,  and 
out  of  the  sinkroom  a  woodhouse,  and  out  of  the 
woodhouse  a  carriage  house,  and  so  on  through  a 
gradually  lessening  succession  of  out-buildings,  un 
til  it  might  seem  as  if  the  house  has  been  con 
structed  on  the  model  of  a  telescope.  And  besides 
all  this,  there  were  four  great  attics !  What  a  won 
derful  house  in  which  to  play  tag  or  blind-man's 
bluff! 

The  house  stood  at  the  highest  point  on  North 
Street  in  the  midst  of  a  colony  of  noble  elms  that 
gathered  about  the  plain,  old-fashioned  parsonage 
like  classic  pillars,  giving  it  a  grand  air  of  schol 
arly  retirement.  The  surroundings  of  this  ram 
bling  old  house  were  delightful.  There  was  the 
tall  well-sweep,  and  a  gate  that  swung  with  a  chain 
and  a  great  stone.  From  the  pantry  window  could 
be  seen  a  whole  neighborhood  of  purple-leaved  beets 
and  feathery  parsnips;  the  gooseberry  bushes  were 
rolled  up  by  the  fence  in  billows,  and  here  and  there 
stood  an  aristocratic  quince  tree.  Far  off  in  one 
corner  a  little  patch  penuriously  devoted  to  orna 
ment  flamed  with  marigolds,  poppies,  snappers  and 
four-o' clocks.  Then  there  was  a  little  box  by  itself 
with  one  rose  geranium  in  it,  which  looked  around 
the  garden  in  a  frightened  way,  as  much  a  stranger 
as  a  French  dancing  master  would  be  in  a  Yankee 
meeting-house.  The  little  foreigner,  however,  re- 

6 


EARLY    HOME 

ceived  delicate  attention  at  the  hands  of  Harriet's 
beauty-loving  mother. 

But,  although  the  house  was  a  big  one,  there  was 
not  too  much  room  for  the  Beecher  family.  Be 
sides  the  father  and  mother,  there  were,  when  the 
last  arrival  completed  the  magic  number,  thirteen 
children  in  all.  Then  there  was  sometimes  an  aunt, 
or  a  grandmother,  or  a  cousin ;  there  were  generally 
a  number  of  students  as  boarders,  and  these,  to 
gether  with  one  Rachel  and  one  Zillah,  both  black, 
completed  the  household  circle. 

Rich  in  children  was  this  New  England  family, 
but  not  in  other  wealth.  Economy  in  the  Beecher 
family  was  a  necessity,  but  economy  was  also  a  law 
of  New  England  life.  Dr.  Beecher  in  one  of  his 
reminiscences  tells  of  an  old  parishioner  of  his  who 
was  so  steeped  in  the  prevailing  spirit  of  economy 
that  he  boasted  of  having  kept  all  of  his  accounts 
for  thirty  years  with  one  quill  pen;  that  he  knew 
exactly  how  to  lean  his  arm  on  the  table  so  as  not 
to  take  the  nap  off  the  sleeve ;  and  how  to  set  down 
his  foot  with  the  least  possible  wear  to  the  sole  of 
his  shoe.  It  stands  to  reason  that  when  the  min 
ister  has  to  deal  with  such  deacons  as  this  the  min 
ister's  wife  will  turn  a  dress  several  times,  and  must 
be  forgiven  if  she  requires  even  the  smallest  chil 
dren  of  her  family  to  overcast  the  long  seams  of  the 
linen  sheets  and  to  hem  interminable  towels.  This 
is  what  the  little  Harriet  had  to  do,  and  perhaps  it 
did  not  cause  her  any  harm. 

7 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

In  spite  of  this  rather  narrowed  way  of  living, 
the  children  in  this  family  did  not  feel  poor.  Once 
there  was  sent  from  Boston  to  the  Litchfield  par 
sonage  a  barrel  of  dishes  embellished  with  figures 
which  you  could  worship  without  worshiping  the 
image  of  anything  either  in  the  heaven  or  upon 
earth — so  Henry  said ;  but  the  children  thought 
them  the  very  embodiment  of  beauty.  When  the 
barrel  was  unpacked,  one  of  the  boys  said,  "Oh, 
mother,  what  rich  people  we  must  be  to  have  such 
woriderf ul  dishes !"  Wealth,  it  seems,  consists  more 
in  the  way  one  feels  than  in  what  one  really  pos 
sesses. 

An  establishment  such  as  this,  as  any  one  may 
see,  afforded  occupation  for  a  number  of  hands. 
Little  Harriet  was  a  great  worker.  Her  brother 
wrote  that  before  he  was  ten  years  old  he  had 
learned  to  sew,  knit,  scour  knives,  wash  dishes,  set 
and  clear  the  table,  cut  and  split  and  bring  in  wood, 
break  tumblers  and — earn  whippings!  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  his  sister  next  older  shared  these 
exercises  with  him — except  the  last!  We  are  not 
going  to  believe  that  Harriet  ever  deserved  that. 

Harriet  Beecher  said  once  that  work,  thrift  and 
industry  are  the  incessant  steam-power  of  Yankee 
life ;  certainly  none  of  her  family  seems  to  have  been 
in  any  degree  scared  by  the  prospect  of  hard  work. 
Harriet's  brother  Edward  makes  light  of  the  labor 
in  a  very  jolly  letter  which  he  sent  in  1821  to  his 
stepmother.  "And  what  shall  I  say  more  ?  Shall  I 

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EARLY    HOME 

speak  of  our  orchard,  from  which  the  gale  blew  off 
apples  enough  for  twenty  barrels  of  cider,  and 
whereon  are  yet  cider  and  winter  apples  without 
number?  Or  of  our  cellar  wherein  are  barrels  small 
and  great,  moreover  bins,  boxes,  cupboards,  which 
I  have  arranged,  having  cleansed  the  cellar  with 
bezom,  rake,  and  wheelbarrow?  Or  of  our  garden, 
in  which  were  weeds  of  various  kinds,  particularly 
pig;  yea,  also  beets,  carrots,  parsnips  and  potatoes, 
the  like  of  which  was  never  seen?"1  And  Dr. 
Beecher  himself,  writing  to  one  of  the  boys  in  July, 
1819,  tells  how  he  has  weeded  the  parsnips  and 
beets,  has  planted  potatoes  in  the  orchard,  plowed 
the  yard  and  carried  out  the  stones.  With  some 
help  he  has  got  out  in  two  days  a  pile  of  stones  as 
big  as  the  salt  mountain  in  Louisiana!  After  that 
they  set  to  and  tore  down  a  useless  eighty-year-old 
barn.  The  garden,  he  went  on  to  say,  was  waving 
with  corn,  canteloupes,  cabbages  and  pumpkins.  The 
peas  were  some  of  them  big  enough  to  eat  but  had 
politely  waited  for  the  younger  brethren  around 
them  to  come  to  maturity  so  that  they  might  all 
have  the  pleasure  of  being  eaten  together!  The 
raspberries  were  so  thick  that  one  could  not  see 
between  them,  nor  even  stick  between  them  a  sharp- 
pointed  knife.  "Can  you  not  find  out  by  algebra," 
he  asks,  "how  many  there  will  be?"  So  he  goes  on 
through  the  list  —  lettuce,  radishes,  pepper-grass, 


Lyman  Beecher's  "Autobiography,"  1866,  Vol.  I,  pp. 
464-474. 

9 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

carrots,  etc.  "The  garden  gates  shut,"  he  continues, 
"as  regularly  as  they  open,  and  no  creature  can  get 
in  except  the  hens,  which  are  now  about  tired  of 
coming,  as  they  are  sure  to  be  saluted  quite  unex 
pectedly  with  a  charge  of  powder,  'speaking  terror 
from  the  gun  muzzle/  Do  you  know,"  he  asks  his 
son,  "from  whom  the  quotation  is  made?  Some 
poet,  you  perceive."  So  the  wise  father  mixed  in 
struction  with  gossip  and  made  a  game  of  work. 

He  was  an  interesting  man,  gifted  with  tremen 
dous  enthusiasm  and  untiring  energy.  And  he  had 
an  individual  way  of  doing  things  and  a  salty  wit 
which  can  only  be  described  as  Beecher-ish.  He 
knew  instinctively  just  when  to  praise  and  when  to 
blame.  When  he  and  the  boys  were  splitting  wood 
and  carrying  it  into  the  shed,  he  sometimes  said, 
"I  wish,  Harriet,  that  you  were  a  boy,  for,  if  you 
had  been,  you  would  have  done  more  than  any  of 
them."  Then  would  Harriet  run  and  put  on  a 
little  black  coat  she  had,  and  work  like  all  pos 
sessed  to  outdo  the  others  in  her  enthusiasm.  The 
clever  suggestion  to  Harriet  also  glanced  sidewise 
and  hit  the  lagging  boys,  who  then  bestirred  them 
selves  until  the  wood  was  all  split  and  piled  in  the 
woodshed  and  the  chips  swept  up.  To  make  the 
work  go  faster  and  more  cheerfully,  Dr.  Beecher 
sometimes  made  the  children  vie  with  each  other  to 
see  who  could  tell  the  most  Bible  stories,  or  name 
the  most  Bible  characters ;  or  he  started  a  discussion 
on  some  theological  question,  often  taking  the 

10 


EARLY    HOME 

weaker  or  wrong  side  himself  and  telling  the  chil 
dren  what  point  to  bring  forward,  saying,  the  ar 
gument  is  thus  and  so!  Now,  if  you  will  take  this 
position,  you  will  be  able  to  trip  me  up!  So  he 
strengthened  their  reasoning  powers. 

The  task  done,  the  reward  was  a  fishing  excursion 
or  a  nutting  party.  Here  again  the  father  chal 
lenged  the  children  in  feats  of  climbing  the  trees 
and  of  gathering  the  nuts.  Although  not  a  man  of 
special  physical  strength  himself,  he  came  from  a 
line  celebrated  for  vigor.  His  grandfather  had  been 
six  feet  tall  and  could  easily  lift  a  barrel  of  cider 
and  drink  from  the  bung.  His  father,  not  quite  so 
tremendous,  had  been  only  strong  enough  to  lift  a 
barrel  of  cider  and  toss  it  easily  into  the  cart!  The 
descendant  of  these  giant-like  men  was  more  cele 
brated  for  his  intellectual  feats  than  for  his  merely 
physical  exploits.  But  no  Highlanders  ever  gloried 
more  proudly  in  the  prowess  of  their  chief  than  did 
the  Beecher  children  in  that  of  their  father!  The 
most  difficult  trees  were  climbed  by  the  Doctor  him 
self;  sometimes  to  reach  a  branch  that  hung  out 
over  the  cliff,  he  endangered  his  life  to  get  the  fruit. 
They  were  certain  that  no  tree  grew  in  so  exalted 
a  place  that  he  could  not  climb  it.  Oh,  those  were 
great  days!  At  noon  a  fire  was  made  and  the 
abundant  luncheon  was  spread  on  a  broad  flat  rock 
around  which  a  white  foam  of  moss  made  a  soft 
seat.  And  here  again  the  father  was  the  hero,  for 
around  the  fire  no  companion  could  be  more  jolly 

ii 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

than  he.  It  is  not  strange  that  the  children  remem 
bered  their  father  rather  as  a  playmate  than  as  a 
stern  disciplinarian. 

Yet  discipline  in  this  home  circle  there  must  have 
been  to  keep  order  in  so  large  and  intensely  active 
a  family.  Aunt  Esther  sometimes  found  a  want  of 
subordination  among  the  troops.  The  very  clever 
ness  of  the  children  made  the  problem  great.  For 
instance,  if  she  told  the  boys  that  they  should  not 
be  so  boisterous,  they  would  be  likely  to  answer  by 
complaining  that  she  did  not  also  try  to  keep  the 
girls  from  being  so  girlsterous.  And  under  cover 
of  this  witticism  the  boys  would  escape  punishment. 
At  one  time  she  wrote  to  one  of  the  children  in  a 
merry  mood,  "Your  father  and  mother  have  been 
gone  a  fortnight  and  the  crew  at  home  are  begin 
ning  to  grow  somewhat  mutinous,  and  I  am  not 
sure  but  I  shall  be  obliged  to  condemn  and  hang  a 
half  score  of  them  before  the  return  of  your  father." 
In  February,  1822,  while  Harriet  was  visiting  her 
aunt  at  Guilford,  her  older  sister,  Catherine,  wrote 
to  her:  "We  all  want  you  home  very  much,  but 
hope  you  are  now  where  you  will  learn  to  stand  and 
sit  straight  and  hear  what  people  say  to  you,  and  sit 
still  in  your  chair,  and  learn  to  sew  and  knit  well, 
and  be  a  good  girl  in  every  particular;  and  if  you 
don't  learn  this  while  you  are  with  your  Aunt  Har 
riet,  I  am  afraid  you  never  will."  Then,  to  offset 
this  rather  strenuous  piece  of  advice,  Catherine,  in 
relenting  mood,  added,  very  much  as  her  father 

12 


EARLY   HOME 

might  have  done :  "Old  Puss  is  very  well  and  sends 
his  respects  to  you;  and  Mr.  Black  Trip  has  come 
out  of  the  barn  to  live,  and  says  that  if  you  ever 
come  into  the  kitchen  he  will  jump  up  and  lick  your 
hand  and  pull  your  frock,  just  as  he  serves  the  rest 
of  us."  This  elder  sister  of  Harriet's  was  so  full  of 
fun  that  she  was  the  life  and  joy  of  the  house. 
Writing  to  their  brother  Edward  in  1819,  she  said : 
"Apropos — last  week  we  interred  Tom,  Junior,  with 
funeral  honors,  by  the  side  of  old  Tom  of  happy 
memory.  What  a  fatal  mortality  there  is  among  the 
cats  of  the  parsonage !  Our  Harriet  is  chief  mourn 
er  always  at  their  funerals.  She  has  asked  for  what 
she  calls  an  'epithet'  for  the  gravestone  of  Tom, 
Junior,  which  I  gave  as  follows : 

"Here  died  our  kit 
Who  had  a  fit, 

And  acted  queer. 
Shot  with  a  gun, 
Her  race  is  run, 

And  she  lies  here." 

Catherine's  father  must  have  been  looking  over 
his  daughter's  shoulder  as  she  wrote  this,  for  he 
added  a  postscript  saying  that,  as  every  man  must 
eat  his  pound  of  dirt,  so  he  supposed  every  one  must 
write  his  quire  of  nonsense,  but  that  he  hoped  that 
soon  none  but  letters  so  solid  and  weighty  as  to  earn 
their  postage  would  be  passing  to  and  fro.  After 
this  Catherine  put  on  still  another  postscript  and 

13 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

said:  "Never  mind  this,  Ned,  for  Papa  loves  to 
laugh  as  well  as  any  of  us,  and  is  quite  as  much 
tickled  at  nonsense  as  we  are.'1 

There  was,  then,  a  merry  side  in  the  life  at  Litch- 
field  Parsonage.  Catherine  wrote  at  one  time,  quite 
seriously,  that  her  little  sister  was  a  very  good  girl, 
had  been  to  school  all  summer  and  had  learned  to 
read  very  fluently,  and  that  she  had  committed  to 
memory  twenty-seven  hymns  and  two  long  chapters 
in  the  Bible;  that  she  had  a  remarkably  retentive 
memory  and  would  make  a  very  good  scholar.  Still, 
considering  the  spirit  of  fun  that  races  through 
every  book  Harriet  wrote,  we  cannot  believe  she  was 
always  sitting  still  in  a  chair,  learning  to  sew  and 
knit  well,  and  being  a  good  girl  in  every  particular. 
We  think  of  her  also  as  having  something  in  her  of 
the  fascinating  little  Tina  in  "Oldtown  Folks,'* 
one  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  most  powerful  stories  of  New 
England  life.  We  can  even  believe  it  to  have  been 
as  difficult  in  Harriet's  case  as  it  was  in  Tinas  to 
get  her  to  go  to  bed  at  the  proper  hour.  As  night 
drew  on,  the  little  one's  tongue  no  doubt  ran  on  with 
increasing  fluency,  and  her  powers  of  entertainment 
waxed  more  dazzling.  On  a  drizzling,  freezing 
night  when  the  wind  howled  lonesomely  around  the 
corners  of  the  house,  who  could  have  the  heart  to 
extinguish  the  candle  at  exactly  eight  or  even  at 
nine?  Then  little  Harriet  was  ballet  and  opera  to 
the  household  group,  mimicking  the  dog,  the  cat, 
the  hens,  and  the  torn-turkey,  or  talking  and  flying 

14 


EARLY    HOME 

about  the  room  in  lively  imitation  of  some  member 
of  the  family.  She  stirred  up  butter  and  exclaimed, 
"Pshaw!"  just  like  one  of  the  grown-ups;  she  in 
vented  imaginary  scenes  and  conversations  and  im 
provised  unheard-of  costumes  out  of  strange  old 
things  she  rummaged  out  of  the  garret,  until  nine 
o'clock  sounded  inexorably  from  the  old  family 
timepiece  and  put  a  stop  to  the  fun  for  that  night. 


CHAPTER   II 

WORK   AND    PLAY   IN   THE    BEECHER   PAR 
SONAGE 

IN  the  Beecher  household  there  was  naturally  a 
necessity  that  every  one  should  be  up  and  do 
ing:  Monday,  because  it  was  washing  day; 
Tuesday,  because  it  was  ironing  day;  Wednesday, 
because  it  was  baking  day;  Thursday,  because  to 
morrow  was  Friday,  and  so  on  through  the  week. 
Daily  life  began  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  the  tapping  of  a  pair  of  imperative  heels  on 
the  stair  and  an  authoritative  rap  on  the  door  dis 
pelled  the  slumbers  of  the  children.  On  winter 
mornings  the  door  was  opened  and  a  lighted  candle 
was  set  inside.  The  sleepy  eyes  of  little  girl  Harriet 
could  then  watch  the  forest  of  glittering  frostwork 
made  by  her  breath  as  it  froze  on  the  threads  of  the 
blanket.  She  saw  rainbow  colors  on  this  frostwork, 
and  she  then  floated  off  into  dreams  and  fancies 
about  it  which  would  perhaps  end  in  a  doze.  Very 
soon,  however,  her  cold  little  fingers  managed  the 
fastenings  on  her  own  clothes  as  well  as  on  those  of 

16 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

her  little  brother,  and  she  was  at  her  breakfast  with 
the  large  family  circle. 

The  breakfast!  It  was  not  like  the  five-course 
banquet  we  have  to-day.  The  bread  was  that  black 
compound  of  rye  and  Indian  meal  which  the  econ 
omy  of  New  England  made  the  common  form  be 
cause  it  could  be  most  easily  raised  on  a  hard  and 
stony  soil;  but  Mrs.  Stowe  in  later  life  informed  all 
whom  it  might  concern  that  rye  and  Indian  bread, 
smoking  hot,  together  with  savory  sausage,  pork 
and  beans  formed  a  breakfast  fit  for  a  king,  if  the 
king  had  earned  it  by  getting  up  in  a  cold  room, 
washing  in  ice- water,  tumbling  through  snow-drifts 
and  foddering  cattle.  The  children  in  the  Beecher 
home  no  doubt  partook  of  this  form  of  nourishment 
with  thorough  cheerfulness,  dividing  their  portions 
with  the  dog  and  the  cat  of  the  establishment  in  a 
contentment  pleasant  to  behold. 

After  breakfast  came  family  prayers.  They  read 
the  Bible  through  in  course,  without  note  or  com 
ment.  At  that  time  the  very  letter  of  the  Bible  was 
one  of  the  forces  that  formed  the  minds  of  the 
children,  since  it  was  for  the  most  part  read  twice  a 
day  in  every  family  of  any  pretensions  to  respecta 
bility.  It  was  also  used  as  a  reading  book  in  every 
common  school.  If  the  children  understood,  well; 
if  not,  the  mental  stimulant  of  constant  contact  with 
the  Book  was  left  to  make  what  impression  it  would. 
It  was  wonderful  to  hear  the  Doctor  read  the  Bible 
at  family  prayers  in  the  morning,  for  he  read  it  in 

17 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

such  an  eager,  earnest  tone  of  admiring  delight,  with 
such  an  indescribable  air  of  intentness  and  expect 
ancy,  as  if  the  Book  had  just  been  handed  him  out 
of  Heaven!  The  joy  of  his  soul  in  every  new  ray 
of  Heaven's  glory  was  manifest  to  each  member  of 
the  home  circle  and  had  its  effect  on  the  impres 
sionable  children  so  that  they  could  hardly  fail  to 
partake  with  him  of  that  hunger  and  thirst  after 
the  knowledge  of  God.  The  reading  of  the  chapter 
was  followed  by  an  earnest  prayer  by  Dr.  Beecher, 
and  sometimes  by  what  they  called  a  "concert  of 
prayer,"  when  every  member  of  the  family  would 
offer  an  extemporaneous  petition,  long  or  short,  ac 
cording  to  ability  and  experience.  These  sacred 
hours  were  remembered  by  the  children  as  long  as 
life  lasted. 

After  this  ceremony,  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to 
get  the  children  off  to  school.  It  was  not  a  small 
matter  when  the  list  included  William  Henry,  Ed 
ward,  Mary  Foote,  George,  Harriet  Elizabeth, 
Henry  Ward  and  Charles.  Later  on  were  added  the 
names  of  Isabella  Holmes,  Thomas  Kennicut  and 
James.  Now  the  dinner  for  each  child  was  packed 
in  a  small  splint  basket,  and  after  much  business 
was  gone  through  all  were  away  to  Academy  or 
Dame  School,  according  to  age  and  ability.  In 
winter  William  and  Edward  had  their  sleds — not 
gayly  painted  ones  from  the  emporium  as  modern 
boys  have,  but  rude  fabrics  made  on  rainy  days  out 
of  odds  and  ends  of  old  sleigh  runners  and  any 

18 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

rough  boards  that  could  be  fashioned  with  saw  and 
hatchet.  Such  as  they  were,  they  served  the 
Beecher  family  well,  and  happy  was  the  day  when 
big  brother  William  or  Edward  would  take  the 
little  sister  to  school  on  the  sled,  drawing  her  swiftly 
over  the  snow,  her  little  charge,  the  younger 
brother,  closely  clasped  in  her  arms. 

On  Sunday  mornings  strenuous  exertions  were 
required,  for  besides  going  through  the  usual  rou 
tine,  Sunday  clothes  had  to  be  donned ;  also,  it  was 
to  be  made  quite  certain  that  the  catechism  had  been 
successfully  and  permanently  drilled  into  the  mind 
of  each  child.  In  her  account  of  the  life  of  her  dis 
tinguished  brother,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Mrs. 
Stowe  records  an  early  experience  of  hers  in  trying 
to  teach  him  his  grammar,  and  if  she  had  equal  dif 
ficulties  in  making  him  learn  the  catechism,  she  cer 
tainly  had  her  hands  full. 

"Now,  Henry,"  she  would  say,  "A  is  the  indefi 
nite  article,  you  see,  and  must  be  used  only  with  a 
singular  noun.  You  can  say  a  man,  but  you  can't 
say  a  men,  can  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  can  say  Amen,  too,"  was  the  ready 
rejoinder.  "Father  says  it  at  the  end  of  his 
prayers." 

"Come,  Henry,  now  don't  be  joking;  now  de 
cline  he." 

"Nominative,  he;  possessive,  his;  objective,  him" 

"Yes,"  said  the  young  teacher.  "You  see,  his  is 
3  19 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

possessive.  Now  you  can  say,  his  book,  but  you 
cannot  say  him  book." 

"Yes,  I  do  say  hymn-book,  too,"  said  the  incor 
rigible  scholar,  with  a  quizzical  twinkle.  Each  one 
of  his  sallies  produced  from  the  teacher  a  laugh, 
which  was  the  victory  he  wanted. 

"But  now,  Henry,  seriously.  Just  attend  to  the 
active  and  passive  voice.  Now  /  strike  is  active, 
you  see,  because  if  you  strike  you  do  something. 
But  /  am  struck  is  passive,  because  if  you  are  struck 
you  don't  do  anything,  do  you?" 

"Yes,  I  do;  I  strike  back  again." 

When  Harriet  was  old  enough  to  become  the  in 
structor  of  a  frisky  pupil  like  this  she  may  well 
have  found  that  the  New  England  Catechism  occa 
sionally  brought  her  to  her  wit's  end. 

The  church  to  which  the  Beecher  children  were 
regularly  led  was  one  of  those  square,  bald  struc 
tures  of  which  but  few  have  come  down  to  us  from 
the  old  times.  It  was  wide,  roomy,  and  of  a  deso 
late  plainness.  During  the  long  hours  of  the  ser 
mon  the  youngsters,  perched  in  a  row  on  a  low  seat 
in  front  of  the  pulpit,  attempted  occasionally  sundry 
small  exercises  of  their  own,  such  as  making  their 
handkerchiefs  into  rabbits,  or  exhibiting  slyly  the 
apples  and  gingerbread  they  had  brought  for  the 
Sunday  dinner,  or  pulling  the  ears  of  some  dis 
creet,  meeting-going  dog,  who  now  and  then  soberly 
pit-a-patted  through  the  broad  aisle.  But  woe  be 
to  them,  says  Harriet,  if  during  those  contraband 

20 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

sports  they  should  see  the  sleek  head  of  the  Deacon 
dodge  up  from  behind  the  top  of  his  seat.  Instantly 
all  the  apples,  gingerbread  and  handkerchiefs  would 
vanish  and  the  whole  row  of  children  would  be  seen 
sitting  there  with  their  hands  folded  looking  as 
demure  as  if  they  understood  every  word  of  the 
sermon  and  more,  too. 

Mrs.  Stowe  says  that  her  book,  "Poganuc  People," 
consists  of  chapters  taken  right  out  of  her  own  life, 
and  so  we  may  read  the  name  "Harriet"  in  the  place 
of  "Dolly"  all  the  way  through.  We  may  believe, 
then,  that  Harriet  was  disposed  of  in  all  those  short 
hand  methods  by  which  children  were  taught  to  be 
the  least  possible  trouble.  She  was  told  to  come 
when  called,  and  to  do  as  she  was  bid  without  ques 
tion  or  argument,  to  be  quiet  in  bed  at  the  earliest 
possible  hour  of  the  night,  and,  in  the  presence  of 
her  elders,  to  speak  only  when  spoken  to.  All  this 
was  a  great  repression  to  Harriet,  who  was  by  na 
ture  a  lively,  excitable  little  thing,  bursting  with 
questions  that  she  longed  to  ask,  and  with  comments 
and  remarks  that  she  burned  to  make.  Perhaps  it 
never  distinctly  occurred  to  her  to  murmur  at  her 
lot  in  life,  yet  at  times  she  must  have  sighed  over 
the  dreadful  insignificance  of  being  only  a  little  girl 
in  a  great  family  of  grown-up  people.  For  even  the 
brothers  nearest  her  own  age  were  studying  at  the 
Academy  and  spouting  scraps  of  superior  Latin  at 
her  to  make  her  stare  and  wonder  at  their  learning. 
They  were  tearing,  noisy,  tempestuous  boys,  good- 

21 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

natured  enough  and  willing  to  pet  her  at  intervals, 
but  prompt  to  suggest  that  it  was  time  for  her  to 
go  to  bed  when  her  questions  or  her  gambols  inter 
fered  with  their  evening  pleasures. 

Moreover,  since  Harriet  was  a  robust,  healthy 
little  creature,  she  received  none  of  the  petting  which 
a  more  delicate  child  might  have  claimed.  The  gen 
eral  course  of  her  experience  impressed  her  with 
the  mournful  conviction  that  she  was  always  likely 
to  be  in  the  way.  But  if  she  was  it  was  because  of 
her  childish  curiosity,  and  of  her  burning  desire  to 
see  and  hear  all  that  interested  the  grown  people 
about  her. 

At  that  time  there  were  no  amusements  espe 
cially  provided  for  children,  no  children's  books, 
and  no  Sunday  schools  to  teach  bright  little  songs 
and  to  give  children  picnics  and  presents.  It  was  a 
grown  people's  world.  The  toys  of  the  period  were 
so  poor  and  so  few  that,  in  comparison  with  our 
modern  profusion,  they  could  scarcely  be  said  to 
exist.  Harriet  was,  however,  not  without  some 
home-made  toys,  and  we  are  glad  to  believe  that  a 
doll  baby,  though  perhaps  only  a  rag  one,  was,  in 
the  course  of  providential  events,  assigned  to  little, 
human-hearted  Harriet  Beecher. 

We  know  that  Harriet's  older  sister  Catherine 
was  a  master  hand  at  making  dolls.  With  scissors, 
needle,  paint  and  other  materials  she  could  make 
dolls  of  all  sizes,  sexes  and  colors,  and  surround 
them  with  all  sorts  of  droll  contrivances.  For  in- 

22 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

stance,  she  once  made  a  Queen  of  Sheba  with  a  gold 
crown,  seated  her  in  a  chariot  made  of  half  a  pump 
kin  drawn  by  four  prancing  steeds  fashioned  out  of 
crook-necked  squashes,  whose  ears  and  legs  she 
whittled  out  and  fastened  securely  in  their  proper 
places.  Then  she  manufactured  a  negro  driver  and 
placed  him  above  with  the  reins  in  hand.  Her  care 
and  artistry  were  rewarded  by  the  admiration  and 
amusement  of  the  whole  family.  It  was  certainly 
worth  a  great  deal  to  the  little  Harriet  to  have  a 
sister  like  that,  and  we  believe  that  the  exercise  of 
Catherine's  talents  was  not  wholly  selfish. 

In  "Poganuc  People/'  Mrs.  Stowe,  remembering 
her  own  childhood  well,  gives  to  the  young  heroine 
a  gorgeous  wooden  doll  with  staring  glass  eyes. 
This  precious  treasure  was  the  central  point  in  all 
Dolly's  arrangements.  To  this  companion  Dolly 
showed  her  stores  of  chestnuts  and  walnuts,  gave 
jay-bird  feathers  and  bluebird's  wings,  and  a  set  of 
tea  cups  made  out  of  the  backbone  of  a  codfish. 
She  brushed  and  curled  the  doll's  hair  till  she  took 
all  the  curl  out  of  it,  and  washed  all  the  paint  off 
its  cheeks  in  her  motherly  zeal. 

Besides  her  doll  and  its  excellent  codfish  back 
bone  tea-set — and  no  one  who  has  not  tried  to  make 
them,  by  the  way,  can  know  how  beautiful  and  deli 
cate  such  tea  cups  can  be — Harriet  had  in  her 
earliest  play  days  an  unfailing  source  of  occupation 
and  delight  in  the  gigantic  woodpile  in  the  back 
yard  where  the  fuel  for  the  season  was  laid  up  in 

23 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

long  rows  eight  or  ten  feet  high.  Here  was  a  world 
of  marvels.  The  child  skipped  and  sung  and 
climbed  among  its  intricacies,  rinding  and  collecting 
wonderful  treasures,  green  velvet  mosses,  little 
white  trees  of  lichen  that  seemed  to  have  tiny  apples 
upon  them,  fine  scarlet  cups  and  fairy  caps.  From 
these  materials  she  constructed  miniature  landscapes 
in  which  the  mosses  made  the  fields,  little  sprigs  of 
spruce  and  ground  pine  the  trees,  and  bits  of  broken 
glass  the  lakes  and  rivers,  reflecting  the  overshadow 
ing  banks. 

With  such  delights  as  these,  Harriet  was  busy, 
healthy  and  happy.  When  her  brothers  came  home 
from  the  Academy  in  the  evening  and  tossed  her  up 
in  their  long  arms,  her  laugh  rang  out  gay  and  loud 
as  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as  disappointment  in 
the  world.  Sometimes  the  other  children  joined 
her  in  the  magic  field  of  the  woodpile.  Then  they 
made  themselves  houses,  castles  and  fortresses. 
They  played  at  giving  parties  and  entertainments  at 
which  the  dog  and  the  cat  assisted.  They  held  town 
meetings  also,  and  had  voting  days  with  speeches 
against  the  Democrats.  (The  word  did  not  mean 
then  what  it  does  now.)  They  held  religious  meet 
ings,  too,  sung  hymns  and  preached  sermons,  and 
on  these  occasions  Harriet  was  known  to  exhort 
and  recite  texts  of  Scripture  with  a  degree  of  fervor 
that  seemed  to  produce  a  great  effect  upon  her  au 
ditors.  Thus  the  woodpile  became  a  great  forum  of 
debate  as  well  as  a  studio  of  art,  and  Harriet  was 

24 


WORK   AND   PLAY 

the  first  to  welcome  the  time  when  its  stores  should 
be  reinforced  at  that  great  event  of  the  year,  the 
wood-spell. 

A  wood-spell  is  an  old-fashioned  sort  of  donation 
party.  The  pastor  used  to  be  settled  with  the  under 
standing  that  he  should  receive  a  certain  sum  of 
money  as  salary,  and  his  wood,,  just  as  in  East- 
hampton,  Long  Island,  Dr.  Beecher's  first  pastorate, 
one- fourth  of  the  whales  that  were  stranded  on  the 
beach  was  assigned  to  the  minister  as  a  part  of  his 
yearly  payment.  In  Litchfield  a  day  was  set  apart 
in  the  winter  about  the  time  when  the  sleighs  were 
running  most  smoothly  over  the  pressed  snow,  and 
on  that  day  every  parishioner  was  to  bring  to  the 
minister  a  sled-load  of  wood.  This  was  built  up  in 
the  back  yard  of  the  parsonage  into  a  mighty  wood 
pile  for  the  year's  use.  When  Harriet  was  five 
years  old,  partly  because  sorrow  had  visited  the 
Beecher  family  that  year,  and  partly  because  of  a 
quickened  religious  enthusiasm  throughout  the  com 
munity,  the  wood-spell  of  that  winter  was  more 
than  usually  interesting  and  the  number  of  loads 
very  generous.  With  her  father's  rejoicing  ap 
proval,  Harriet's  elder  sister,  Catherine,  now  six 
teen  years  old,  was  allowed  to  take  the  whole  re 
sponsibility  of  preparing  the  banquet  for  the  occa 
sion.  This  meant  a  great  deal.  Everything  in  the 
house  must  be  spick  and  span ;  dozens  of  doughnuts 
must  be  cooked ;  and,  above  all,  the  wood-spell  cake 
must  be  made. 

25 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

For  nearly  a  week  the  kitchen  was  as  busy  as  an 
ant-hill.  The  fat  was  prepared  to  fry  the  dough 
nuts,  the  spices  were  pounded,  the  flour  was  sifted, 
the  materials  for  the  flips  were  collected.  Catherine 
was  assisted  by  eleven-year-old  Mary ;  William,  Ed 
ward  and  George  split  and  brought  in  an  incredible 
amount  of  wood  for  the  oven,  and  the  girls  sat  all 
the  evening  about  the  kitchen  fire  stoning  raisins, 
with  the  best  story-teller  in  the  midst  to  make  the 
time  pass — and  she,  we  are  sure,  could  have  been 
none  other  than  Harriet. 

Then  came  the  baking  of  the  cake.  For  two  days 
beforehand  the  fire  was  surrounded  by  a  row  of 
earthen  jars  in  which  the  spicy  compound  was  rising 
to  the  necessary  lightness.  At  exactly  the  quivering 
instant  for  perfection  each  loaf  was  shoved  into 
the  little  black  door  of  the  brick  oven. 

At  last  all  the  wood-spell  loaves  came  out  vic 
torious,  while  each  helper  merrily  claimed  merit  for 
the  baking. 

The  frying  of  the  doughnuts  was  also  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  delicacy,  requiring  experience  and  the 
nicest  art;  but  this  also  was  a  triumph.  Catherine 
said,  "Were  I  to  tell  how  many  loaves  I  have  put 
in  and  taken  out  of  the  oven,  and  how  many  bushels 
of  doughnuts  I  have  boiled  over  the  kitchen  fire,  I 
fear  my  credit  for  veracity  would  be  endangered." 

Finally  all  was  finished.  A  mighty  cheese  was 
brought;  every  shelf  in  the  closet  and  all  the  dres 
sers  of  the  kitchen  were  crowded  with  the  abun- 

26 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

dance.  The  delicious  stores  of  food  were  indeed  a 
sight  to  behold,  calling  in  admiring  visitors,  and 
Catherine's  success  was  a  matter  of  universal  con 
gratulation.  But  may  we  not  give  Harriet  some 
credit,  too?  For  though  her  part  may  have  been 
largely  the  care  of  the  younger  children,  still,  with 
out  her  help,  Catherine  would  not  have  been  free  to 
do  the  work. 

The  auspicious  day  for  the  coming  of  the  farmers 
arrived.  It  was  a  jewel  of  a  morning,  one  of  those 
sharp,  clear,  sunny,  winter  days  when  the  sleds 
squeak  over  the  flinty  snow  and  the  little  icicles, 
falling  from  the  trees,  tingle  along  on  the  glittering 
crust.  The  breath  of  the  slow-pacing  oxen  steamed 
up  like  a  rosy  cloud  in  the  morning  sun  and  then  fell 
back  condensed  in  globes  of  ice  on  every  hair. 

All  the  children  were  aptir  early,  full  of  life  and 
vigor.  The  boys  were  at  home  for  the  day.  There 
was  a  holiday  at  the  Academy,  for  the  teacher  had 
been  asked  to  come  over  to  the  minister's  to  chat 
and  tell  stories  with  the  farmers  and  give  them  high 
entertainment.  There  was  enough  work  for  all  to 
do,  for  the  three  big  boys  and  for  the  two  sisters. 
Besides  all  the  rest,  there  was  little  Henry  Ward, 
aged  three,  and  Charles,  aged  but  one,  to  be  cared 
for  and  kept  out  of  mischief.  Eager,  lively,  little 
Harriet  could  take  care  of  herself,  and  do  a  great 
deal  of  helping  besides. 

Pretty  soon  the  first  load  came  squeaking  up  the 
village  street,  and  the  boys  clapped  their  hands  and 

27 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

shouted,  "Hurrah  for  Heber!"  as  his  load  of  mag 
nificent  oak,  well-bearded  with  gray  moss,  came 
scrunching  into  the  yard. 

"Well,  Mr.  Atwood,"  said  the  Doctor,  "you  must 
have  had  pretty  hard  work  on  that  load;  that's  no 
ordinary  oak,  I  can  tell  you." 

And  now  the  loads  began  to  arrive  thick  and  fast. 
Sometimes  two  and  three,  sometimes  four  and  five, 
came  stringing  along  in  unbroken  procession.  For 
every  load  the  minister  had  an  appreciative  word, 
noticing  and  commending  the  especial  points,  and 
the  farmers  themselves,  shrewdest  of  observers, 
looked  at  every  pile  and  gave  it  their  verdict.  The 
loads  were  of  the  best,  none  of  your  crooked-stick 
makeshifts.  Good,  straight,  shagbark  hickory  was 
voted  none  too  good  for  the  minister. 

Before  long  the  yard,  street,  and  the  lower  rooms 
of  the  house  were  swarming  with  cheerful  faces. 
Then  Aunt  Esther  began  to  cut  the  first  loaf  of 
wood-spell  cake.  The  flip-irons  were  taken  out  of 
the  fire  and  thrust  into  the  foaming  bowl.  The 
little  folks  were  as  busy  as  bees  in  waiting  on  the 
kind  farmers.  They  handed  around  the  good  things 
to  eat,  the  cider  and  doughnuts,  the  cheese  and  the 
cake.  The  teacher  and  the  minister  were  in  the 
midst  of  merry  chatting  circles;  their  best  stories 
were  told,  and  roars  of  laughter  resounded. 

Meantime  such  a  woodpile  was  arising  in  the 
yard  as  never  before  was  seen  in  ministerial  do 
mains  !  And  how  fresh  and  woodsy  it  smelt !  Har- 

28 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

riet  eyed  it  with  a  view  to  future  plays.  There  was 
the  black  birch  whose  flavored  bark  she  prized  as  a 
species  of  confectionery.  There  were  also  gleam 
ing  logs  of  white  birch,  from  the  bark  of  which  she 
could  cut  strips  for  her  woodland  parchment.  Then 
there  were  massive  trunks  of  oak  affording  ver 
itable  worlds  of  supplies  for  her  woodsy  palette. 

And  now  the  sun  was  going  down.  The  sleds 
had  ceased  to  come,  the  riches  of  woodland  treasure 
were  all  in,  the  whole  air  was  full  of  a  trembling, 
rose-colored  light.  All  over  the  distant  landscape 
there  was  not  a  fence  to  be  seen,  nothing  but  waving 
hollows  of  spotless  snow,  glowing  with  the  rosy 
radiance  and  fading  away  into  purple  and  lilac 
shadows.  And  the  evening  stars  began  to  twinkle, 
one  after  another,  keen  and  clear,  through  the  frosty 
air,  as  the  children  all  sat  together  in  triumph  on 
the  highest  perch  of  the  woodpile. 

In  the  town  where  the  Beechers  had  their  home 
there  were  other  unique  expressions  of  social  feel 
ing  calculated  to  influence  the  mind  of  a  growing 
child,  as  for  instance,  the  Fourth  of  July,  the  apple 
bee,  and  the  sleighing  party.  But  perhaps  Thanks 
giving  Day  was  the  one  most  noted  in  the  calen 
dar.  When  this  characteristic  Yankee  festival  came 
around  there  was  again  an  opportunity  for  the 
parishioners  to  show  the  grace  of  generosity  toward 
the  minister.  In  1818  Dr.  Beecher  writes  to  his  son 
at  college :  "We  had  a  pleasant  Thanksgiving  din 
ner  and,  they  say,  a  good  sermon.  We  had  pres- 

29 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

ents  piled  up  yesterday  at  a  great  rate.  Mr.  Henry 
Wadsworth  sent  6  Ibs.  of  butter,  6  Ibs.  lard,  2  Ibs. 
Hyson  tea,  5  dozen  eggs,  8  Ibs.  sugar,  a  large  pig, 
a  large  turkey  and  four  cheeses.  The  governor 
sent  a  turkey ;  Mrs.  Thompson,  do. ;  and,  to  cap  it 
all,  Mr.  Rogers  sent  us  a  turkey !"  Under  such  cir 
cumstances  as  these  it  is  rather  fortunate  that  the 
Beecher  family  had  a  considerable  number  of 
mouths  to  be  filled. 

Again  the  kitchen  was  fragrant  with  the  smell 
of  cinnamon,  cloves  and  allspice  which  the  children 
were  set  to  pound  to  a  most  wearisome  fineness  in 
the  great  lignum-vitse  mortar.  Again  there  was 
the  stoning  of  raisins,  the  cutting  of  citron,  the  slic 
ing  of  orange-peel.  Again  the  fire  was  built  up 
more  architecturally  than  usual  and  roared  and 
crackled  up  the  wide  chimney,  brightening  with  its 
radiance  the  farthest  corner  of  the  ample  room. 
Then  a  tub  of  rosy-cheeked  apples,  another  of 
golden  quinces,  and  a  bushel  basket  full  of  cran 
berries  were  set  in  the  midst  of  the  circle  of  happy 
children  who  were  being  led  in  the  ways  of  in 
dustry,  sorting  and  cutting,  to  the  tune  of  the  snap 
ping  fire. 

But  who  shall  do  justice  to  the  dinner?  Who 
shall  describe  the  turkey,  the  chicken,  with  the  con 
fusing  series  of  vegetables,  the  plum  puddings  and 
the  endless  variety  of  pies?  After  dinner  the  father 
of  the  house  conformed  to  the  old  Puritan  custom 
by  recounting  the  mercies  of  God  in  his  dealings 

30 


WORK   AND    PLAY 

with  the  family.  He  recited  a  sort  of  family  his 
tory,  closing  with  the  time-honored  text  that  ex 
pressed  the  hope  that  as  years  went  by  every  mem 
ber  of  the  house  circle  might  so  number  his  days  as 
to  apply  his  heart  unto  wisdom.  Then  with  the 
national  hymn  of  the  Puritans, 

Let  children  hear  the  mighty  deeds 
Which  God  performed  of  old, 

sung  to  the  venerable  tune  of  St.  Martin's,  the 
ceremonies  closed. 

So  it  was  in  the  noble  old  New  England  days! 
Amid  scenes  like  this  a  child  was  growing  up  in 
whose  character  love  of  home  and  love  of  country 
were  to  be  corner  stones. 


CHAPTER  III 
HARRIET   BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

AWAY  down  West  Street  in  the  village  of 
Litchfield  was  a  square  pine  building  stand 
ing  at  the  edge  of  the  highway  where  no 
tree  gave  shade  and  no  bush  or  fence  took  off  the 
cold  hard  look.  In  this  Dame  School,  kept  by 
Ma'am  Kilbourne,  Harriet  Beecher's  school  educa 
tion  began.  Before  the  door  in  winter  was  a  pile 
of  wood  for  fuel,  and  in  summer  all  the  chips  of 
the  winter's  wood  still  lay  there  outspread  upon 
the  ground.  Inside  the  appearance  was  even  less 
attractive  than  without.  The  benches  were  simple 
slabs  with  legs.  The  desks  were  slabs  set  up  at 
an  angle;  they  were  cut,  hacked,  and  scratched; 
each  year's  edition  of  jack-knife  literature  overlay 
its  predecessor's,  until  in  the  days  of  the  Beecher 
children  the  desks  already  possessed  carvings  two 
or  three  inches  deep.  But  if  a  child  cut  a  morsel, 
or  stuck  in  a  pin,  or  pinched  off  a  splinter,  the 
sharp-eyed  little  mistress  was  on  hand,  and  one  look 
from  her  eyes  was  worse  than  a  sliver  in  the  foot, 

32 


HARRIET    BEECHER'S   SCHOOLING 

and  one  nip  from  her  fingers  was  equal  to  the  jab 
of  a  pin ;  each  boy  knew,  for  every  one  of  them  had 
tried  both.  The  teacher  in  this  school  for  children 
was  a  sharp,  precise  person  possessed  of  many  in 
genious  ways  for  fretting  little  ones.  At  any  rate 
this  was  the  way  one  little  boy  remembered  her,  and 
we  may  suppose  that  a  little  girl  would  realize  some 
of  her  disagreeableness,  even  so  obedient  a  child  as 
Harriet. 

Every  morning,  then,  during  both  summer  and 
winter  little  Harriet  and  her  brother  two  years 
younger  than  herself,  reinforced  by  a  hearty  break 
fast  and  a  more  hearty  session  of  morning  prayers 
at  home,  and  bearing  the  precious  splint  basket  that 
contained  their  mid-day  lunch  of  brown  bread  and 
apples,  trudged  down  to  the  place  of  all-day  work 
and  perhaps  of  discipline. 

Harriet  and  her  brother  Henry  were  inseparable 
companions.  Together  they  were  hurried  off  from 
the  house,  together  they  went  down  the  village 
street,  together  they  entered  the  dismal  school,  sub 
dued  for  the  moment  into  quiet.  Together  they 
endured  the  long  day  and  envied  the  flies  and  the 
birds  that  could  go  about  so  freely.  The  windows 
were  so  high  that  they  could  not  see  the  grassy 
meadows — only  the  tantalizing  tops  of  the  trees 
came  above  the  window  ledges,  and  above  that  the 
far,  deep,  bounteous,  blue  sky.  There  flew  the  blue 
birds;  there  went  the  robins,  and  there  followed 
the  longing  thoughts  of  the  children.  Long  before 

33 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

they  knew  what  was  written  in  Scripture  they  cried 
out,  O  that  we  had  the  wings  of  a  bird!  As  for 
learning,  it  was  Henry's  opinion  in  his  mature  life, 
that  the  sum  of  all  they  got  at  the  village  school 
would  scarcely  cover  the  first  ten  letters  of  the  al 
phabet.  One  good,  kind,  story-telling,  Bible-rehears 
ing  aunt  at  home  with  apples  and  ginger-bread 
premiums  was  worth  all  the  school  ma'ams  that 
ever  stood  to  see  poor  little  fellows  roast  in  those 
boy-traps  called  district  schools !  Such  an  aunt  the 
Beecher  children  had  at  home,  and  beloved  she 
was! 

But  that  was  a  boy's  view;  and  boys'  views  of 
teachers  are  well  known  to  be  entirely  unreliable. 
Ma'am  Kilbourne  was  highly  respected  in  the  com 
munity  and  her  curriculum,  though  not  wide,  is 
known  to  have  gone  very  deep.  In  fact  we  may 
say  that  in  her  school  the  character  and  influence 
of  the  teacher,  together  with  the  "New  England 
Primer,"  formed  the  main  body  of  the  instruction. 

"Come  here  and  learn  your  Primer,"  the  teacher 
said,  and  Harriet's  curly  head  bent  over  the  little 
book  as  she  spelled  out  the  words, 

"The  cat  doth  play, 
And  after  slay." 

"You  see  the  picture?"  Her  teacher  pointed  out 
the  right  one  in  its  little  square  on  the  page,  a 
wood-cut  of  the  feline  musician  with  fiddle  in  hand. 

34 


HARRIET    BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

Here  Henry  crowded  forward  to  see,  too,  and,  find 
ing  some  great  joke  in  the  matter,  he  nudged  and 
coughed  and  could  not  be  made  to  stand  still.  The 
Dame  continued : 

"  "Tis  youth's  delight 
To  fly  their  kite—" 

a  self-evident  truth  not  needing  proof.  The  next 
item  is  more  learned. 

"Whales  in  the  sea 
God's  voice  obey — " 

she  pronounced  "sea"  as  "say,"  as  was  the  custom 
in  those  days ; 

"The  deluge  drowned 
The  world  around — " 

continued  these  instructions  in  history  and  science. 
Biblical  example  was  thus  enforced  for  the  benefit 
of  Harriet: 

"Young  pious  Ruth 
Left  all  for  truth;" 

and,  for  Henry's  sake,  this: 

"Young    Obadias, 
David,  Josias, 
All  were  pious." 

4  35 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

That  great  New  England  classic,  comprised  in  a 
mere  booklet,  three  by  four  inches  in  size,  con 
tained  also  the  "Alphabet  of  Lessons  for  Youth/' 
which  Ma'am  Kilbourne  did  not  fail  to  enforce. 
She  taught  them  to  read  from  the  printed  page 
what  they  already  knew  in  the  better  way — by 
heart,  the  immortal  prayer,  "Now  I  lay  me,"  and 
the  hymns,  "Hush,  my  dear,"  and  "Give  ear,  my 
children,"  and  other  hymns  and  prayers.  There 
were  also  "Moral  Precepts  for  Children  in  Words 
of  One  Syllable."  They  were  tedious,  but  think 
of  the  glory  of  really  knowing  them  by  heart! 


Speak  the  truth  and  lie  not. 

Live  well  that  you  may  die  well. 

Ill  words  spread  strife. 

Do  not  be  proud. 

Scorn  not  to  be  poor. 

Give  to  them  that  want. 

Learn  to  love  your  book. 
Good  children  must 

Fear  God  all  day  Love  Christ  alway 

Parents  obey  In  secret  pray 

No  false  thing  say  Mind  little  play 

By  no  sin  stray  Make  no  delay 

In  doing  good. 


These  foundation  principles,  we  may  be  sure,  were 
well  rubbed  in. 

The  Dame  School  was  an  English  inheritance  that 
came  with  the  Puritans  from  their  home  across  the 

36 


HARRIET    BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

Atlantic — such  a  school  as  the  poets  Cowper  and 
Shenstone  have  beautifully  described  in  their  poetry. 
In  New  England  a  special  exercise  for  Saturday 
was  added;  then  the  little  ones  were  required  to 
learn  and  recite  the  answers  in  the  Westminster 
Assembly's  Shorter  Catechism,  wherein  the  pro- 
foundest  problems  of  Calvinism  were  thoroughly 
set  forth.  When  Harriet  was  asked  the  first  ques 
tion:  "What  is  the  chief  end  of  man?"  and  was 
taught  to  say :  "The  chief  end  of  man  is  to  glorify 
God  and  to  enjoy  Him  forever,"  she  thought  the 
answer  difficult.  It  was  long  and  had  words  of 
more  than  one  syllable  in  it.  She  liked  far  better 
the  Church  Catechism  that  her  grandmother  down 
in  Guilford  had  her  study  which  began  simply  with 
"What  is  your  name?"  This  was  more  within  her 
range;  it  was  a  good  easy  start,  and  the  answer 
could  be  shouted  out  in  a  voice  loud  and  clear. 

Another  custom  of  the  New  England  Dame 
School  was  perhaps  also  an  innovation — that  of  re 
quiring  the  children  to  bring  a  piece  of  sewing  from 
home  for  the  boys  and  girls  to  work  on  at  odd  mo 
ments  so  that  no  precious  interval  of  time  might 
be  lost.  At  recess  after  the  lunch  had  been  uncere 
moniously  made  away  with  there  were  long  un 
interesting  towel  seams  to  be  ripped  up  on  one 
side  and  sewed  down  on  the  other  by  the  industrious 
little  fingers  of  Harriet  and  of  her  robust  and 
perhaps  rebellious  brother,  Henry  Ward.  In  these 
early  New  England  schools,  as  in  New  England  life 

37 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

in  general,  the  chief  note  was  industry.  Our  heroic 
ancestors,  when  they  left  their  comfortable  homes 
in  the  mother  country  and  came  to  this  untraveled 
land,  did  not  include  in  their  plan  a  smooth  and 
easy  life.  Since  Harriet  belonged  to  a  supremely 
self-sacrificing  family,  she  came  to  share  this  severe 
understanding  of  life,  and  her  patriotic  heart 
warmly  responded  to  it.  Perhaps  when  she  was  a 
little  girl  she  did  not  realize  that  her  school  pro 
vided  few  means  of  healthful  enjoyment  for  the 
children.  But  then,  on  the  rare  occasion  when  one 
of  the  children  had  a  treat  of  nuts  and  raisins,  or 
a  little  cake  trimmed  with  caraway  sugar  plums 
to  share  with  the  others,  her  joy  was  all  the  greater 
because  of  the  rarity  of  the  festival;  and  if  besides 
there  were  added  some  of  those  wonderful  candies 
brought  from  Boston,  heart-shaped  and  hard  as 
pebbles,  but  inscribed  with  romantic  mottoes,  why, 
that  was  bliss  indeed! 

From  these  rather  severe  foundations  Harriet 
passed  on  into  lessons  in  the  reading  of  the  Bible 
and  in  the  "Columbian  Orator."  She  learned  to 
write  from  "set  copies,"  and  to  do  "sums"  from 
Daboll's  Arithmetic. 

Soon  the  whole  company  of  Beecher  boys  and 
girls  were  together  in  a  schoolroom  which  was  bare 
to  the  point  of  meanness  with  a  vestibule  where  hats 
and  dinner  baskets  were  hung.  The  heating  ap 
paratus  was  a  big  stove  whose  long  black  pipe 
stuck  out  of  the  window.  But  if  any  Beecher  child 

38 


HARRIET   BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

complained  of  want  of  comfort,  his  father  cut  him 
short  by  saying,  "Why,  when  I  was  a  boy  the  fire 
place  in  the  schoolhouse,  though  big  enough  to  take 
in  logs  of  wood  cart  length  and  capable  of  making 
heat  enough  to  roast  an  ox,  did  not  carry  the 
warmth  much  beyond  the  andirons.  Only  the 
biggest  and  smartest  boys  were  able  to  get  near 
the  fire;  the  little  fellows  must  do  the  best  they 
could.  I  had  to  take  my  ink-bottle  to  the  fire  to 
thaw  out  the  ice  in  it  many  times  a  day."  In  this 
way  he  put  their  complaints  to  silence. 

In  New  England  the  boys  and  girls  were  educated 
together  in  one  school.  As  Mrs.  Stowe  said  later 
in  life,  "If  a  daughter  of  Eve  wished  like  her 
brother  to  put  forth  her  hand  to  the  tree  of  knowl 
edge  there  was  neither  cherubim  nor  flaming  sword 
to  drive  her  away!"  And  how  they  did  study! 
What  industry !  What  rivalry !  In  English  gram 
mar,  for  instance,  the  school  was  parceled  out  into 
a  certain  number  of  divisions,  each  under  a  leader, 
and  at  the  close  of  the  term  there  was  a  great  ex 
amination  which  was  like  a  tournament.  It  was 
known  that  when  the  day  came,  the  most  difficult 
specimens  of  English  literature  would  be  given  out 
for  parsing  and  the  most  abstruse  problems  in 
grammar  would  be  gathered  together  for  use  in 
the  test.  For  a  week  the  boys  and  girls  spoke  and 
dreamed  of  nothing  but  English  grammar,  and  each 
division  sat  in  solemn  assembly,  afraid  lest  one  of 
its  mighty  secrets  should  possibly  take  wing  and 

39 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

be  plundered  by  some  of  the  scouts  of  another 
division.  In  the  end  the  division  that  could  not  be 
puzzled  by  any  doubtful  phrase  would  be  pro 
claimed  victorious  and  would  be  crowned  with 
laurels  as  glorious  as  those  of  the  old  Olympian 
games. 

In  due  time  Harriet  was  ready  to  enter  the  in 
stitution  that  she  was  looking  forward  to  with 
longing  eyes — the  Litchfield  Female  Academy.  This 
school  was  one  of  many  seminaries  for  the  higher 
culture  of  the  New  England  daughters,  which 
sprang  up  throughout  the  vigorous  young  states, 
and  which  testify  to  the  enthusiasm  for  education 
of  our  Puritan  fathers.  Among  them  the  original 
Mt.  Holyoke  Seminary  and  the  Emma  Willard 
School  are  perhaps  the  most  noted.  Some  of  these 
early  schools  have  developed  into  strong  colleges, 
and  all  of  them  in  their  times  served  a  valuable  pur 
pose  in  our  educational  life.  It  was  fortunate  for 
the  Beecher  family  that  Litchfield  contained  an 
academy  of  this  sort,  and  here  under  the  training 
of  the  cultivated  ladies,  Miss  Sally  and  Miss  Mary 
Pierce,  Harriet's  education  was  now  conducted. 

Miss  Sally  Pierce  was  the  real  head  of  the  school. 
According  to  her  picture  in  Miss  Vanderpoel's  de 
lightful  book  of  reminiscences  of  the  famous  school, 
Miss  Pierce  was  a  very  handsome  woman  with  eyes 
that  suggest  sensibility,  and  a  mouth  that  could 
smile  charmingly.  But  we  suspect  also  that  the  little 
stiff  curls  might  bob  warningly  and  the  lips  settle 

40 


HARRIET    BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

down  into  a  very  firm  line,  while  the  tall  cap  stand 
ing  up  over  the  brow  might  strike  terror  to  the 
heart  of  any  child  doubtful  about  the  correctness 
of  her  examples,  or  nervous  lest  a  half  or  a  one- 
tenth  of  a  "miss"  should  be  counted  against  her. 
The  truth  is,  however,  that  Miss  Sally  was  very 
much  beloved  and  so  greatly  admired  that  she  must 
have  been  in  danger  of  vanity.  John  Pierpont,  a 
considerable  poet  in  his  day  and  not  forgotten  now, 
celebrated  her  worth  in  a  passage  in  his  Centennial 
Poem  in  1851.  He  becomes  almost  eloquent. 

Pierce,  an  honored  name ! 
Yea,  thrice  and  four  times  honored, 

he  cries.  Then  he  contrasts  her  glories  with  those 
of  the  warrior. 

Bloodless  the  garland  on  her  temples  laid. 
To  them,  reproachful,  no  poor  widow  turns; 
No  sister's  heart  bleeds,  and  no  mother  mourns 
To  see  them  flourish.    Ne'er  shall  they  be  torn 
From  off  her  honored  brows.     Long  be  they  worn 
To  show  the  world  how  a  good  Teacher's  name 
Out-weighs,  in  real  worth,  the  proudest  warrior's  fame ! 

The  Academy  was  held  in  an  insignificant  house 
thirty  by  sixty  feet.  There  was  a  small  closet  at 
each  end,  one  for  the  piano  and  one  for  bonnets. 
There  were  desks  of  the  plainest  pine,  long  plank 
benches,  a  small  table  and  an  elevated  chair  for 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

the  teacher — that  was  all.  Upon  the  modest  throne 
sat  Miss  Sally  Pierce,  the  principal.  She  probably 
resembled  Miss  Titcomb,  in  Mrs.  Stowe's  novel, 
"Oldtown  Folks,"  a  thoroughbred,  old-fashioned 
lady  whose  views  of  education  were  formed  by  Miss 
Hannah  More  and  whose  style  like  Miss  Hannah 
More's  was  profoundly  Johnsonian,  which  means 
that  her  ideas  were  expressed  in  very  grand  and 
dignified  language.  The  set  of  rules  that  she  made 
for  the  conduct  of  her  school  required  of  the  pupils 
absolute  moral  perfection.  It  was  written  there 
that  persons  truly  polite  would  invariably  treat  their 
superiors  with  reverence,  their  equals  with  exact 
consideration,  and  their  inferiors  with  condescen 
sion.  Also,  under  the  head  of  manners,  they  were 
warned  not  to  consider  romping  as  indicative  of 
sprightliness  or  loud  laughter  as  a  mark  of  wit. 
When  these  rules  were  read  to  the  pupils  on  a 
Saturday  morning,  we  can  imagine  that  there  was 
some  suppressed  excitement,  for  these  children  with 
mountain  air  stirring  in  their  veins  were  doubtless 
somewhat  given  to  romping  and  loud  laughter! 

Dr.  Beecher,  who  took  a  great  interest  in  the 
school,  came  nearly  every  Saturday  and  talked  with 
the  girls  about  religious  subjects.  The  young  ladies 
also  attended  the  church  and  were  expected  to  re 
port  on  the  sermons  they  heard.  Besides  that,  they 
wrote  of  their  own  accord  long  outlines  of  these 
mild  entertainments  in  their  diaries  and  common 
place  books.  Some  of  these  old  commonplace  books 

42 


HARRIET   BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

have  been  preserved  and  give  testimony  to  the  ac 
curate  attention  of  these  girls  of  old  New  England. 
Said  one :  "Dr.  Beecher  visited  the  school.  I  was 
very  much  pleased;  his  doctrine  is  plain  and  easy 
to  understand."  Another,  after  hearing  him  both 
morning  and  evening  and  stating  the  chapter  and 
verse  used  on  each  occasion,  went  home  and  went 
to  her  room  thinking  seriously  of  what  he  had  said. 
"He  wished,"  she  said,  "to  have  us  all  be  good 
Christians!"  The  same  good  child  once  had  an 
afternoon  holiday,  but  came  to  school  just  the  same. 
She  was  rewarded  by  being  present  when,  at  about 
sunset,  Dr.  Beecher  "came  down  to  see  us.  He 
talked  very  affecting,"  she  said.  "He  said  he  could 
not  make  a  very  long  visit  with  us  at  present,  but 
if  we  wished  he  would  come  in  some  time  and 
pray  with  us.  We  all  joined  in  the  request.  I 
should  be  very  glad  to  have  him  come,  for  I  like 
to  hear  religious  instruction." 

Another  girl  wrote :  "He  said  that  we  must 
repent  and  believe  and  explained  how  we  should 
repent  and  believe,  but  my  memory  is  so  poor  that 
I  cannot  remember  it." 

An  unusually  independent  young  mind  conceived 
the  following  critical  passage:  "Mr.  Beecher 
preached  a  very  good  sermon  quite  as  good  as  he 
usually  does,  though  I  do  not  think  he  is  one  of 
the  best  preachers."  Here  is  the  record  of  one 
Saturday's  exercise:  "Dr.  Beecher  came  in  and 
gave  us  a  lecture  on  the  first  question  in  the 

43 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

catechism.  'What  is  the  chief  end  of  man?  To 
glorify  God  and  enjoy  Him  forever.'  He  said  that 
in  order  to  glorify  God  we  must  love  Him  and 
become  acquainted  with  Him  and  likewise  endeavor 
to  acquaint  our  companions  with  His  goodness,  as 
we  would  if  we  had  a  friend  at  home  who  was 
very  amiable,  and  tell  our  companions  how  amiable 
she  is.  It  would  be  glorifying  her." 

Thus  the  great  preacher  made  his  influence  felt 
as  the  adviser  and  helper  of  Miss  Pierce  and  of  her 
girls.  Mrs.  Beecher,  too,  though  the  most  shy  and 
retiring  of  women,  acted,  with  other  ladies  of  the 
village,  on  the  committee  for  awarding  prizes  at 
the  end  of  the  term. 

When  the  middle  of  June  came  there  were  im 
portant  exercises,  and  on  this  occasion  all  was 
dignity  and  decorum.  A  long  procession  of  school 
girls  came  marching  down  North  Street,  walking 
under  the  lofty  elms  to  the  music  of  the  flute  and 
flageolet.  The  girls  were  gaily  dressed  and  in  the 
most  joyous  spirits.  At  the  church  each  proud 
graduate  received  her  diploma,  a  document  printed 
elegantly  upon  white  satin  and  bound  with  blue 
ribbon.  Upon  the  refined  surface  was  a  beautiful 
picture,  representing  a  lofty  hill,  on  the  top  of 
which  was  a  temple  surrounded  by  rays  of  light. 
A  clearly  marked  but  steep  and  difficult  path  led 
up  the  side  of  this  mountain.  At  the  foot  stood 
a  lady  who  reached  out  her  arm  and  pointed  with 
a  meaning  finger  to  a  bulky  geographical  globe 

44 


HARRIET    BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

that  rested  upon  a  pile  of  books.  She  seemed  to 
say  that  only  by  means  of  most  severe  study  would 
you  be  able  to  climb  this  hill  to  the  radiant  temple 
of  learning.  The  meaning  of  the  picture  was  well 
understood  by  the  young  graduate.  Above  the  de 
sign  amid  the  most  wonderful  flourishes  of  pen 
manship  was  inscribed  the  title  "Litchfield  Female 
Academy,"  and  below  were  printed  the  words : 


Miss 


has  completed  with  honor  the  prescribed  course  of  study 
— Grammar,  Geography,  History,  Arithmetic,  Rhetoric, 
Natural  and  Moral  Philosophy,  Chemistry,  Logic,  and  the 
Principles  of  Taste. 

Several  of  these  little  diplomas,  now  yellowed 
with  age,  are  preserved  in  the  Town  Museum  at 
Litchfield.  I  do  not  know  that  Harriet  Beecher 
came  into  possession  of  one  of  them;  she  probably 
went  away  to  be  a  teacher  herself  before  she  reached 
that  point. 

We  learn,  however,  from  this  little  certificate 
what  was  the  course  of  study  in  the  Litchfield 
Female  Academy.  But  no  such  list  of  titles  can 
give  us  any  real  idea  of  what  the  days  at  the 
Academy  meant  to  Harriet.  Miss  Pierce  was  a 
woman  of  great  ability.  She  herself  had  made  an 
"Abridgment  of  Universal  History"  in  four 
volumes  which  was  used  as  a  text-book  in  her 
school ;  and  after  plodding  through  this  ample  work 
the  students  followed  it  by  Russell's  "Modern 

45 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

Europe,"  Coot's  "Continuation/'  and  Ramsey's 
"American  Revolution,"  and  accompanied  the 
study  with  map-drawing.  They  made  historical 
charts  in  which  the  names  of  kings  and  queens  were 
set  in  little  sequins  strung  along  a  "riband"  or 
skein  of  sky-blue  silk.  Within  the  charmed  en 
closure  of  this  design  were  the  royal  genealogical 
patterns  from  Saxon  to  Brunswick  with  roses  of 
red  and  of  white  appropriately  interspersed.  Noth 
ing  could  be  clearer.  Mrs.  Stowe  thought  so  much 
of  Miss  Pierce's  method  that  when  she  had  her 
own  little  family  to  bring  up  she  wrote  to  ask 
Miss  Pierce  for  a  copy  of  the  book  she  had  used 
in  childhood  from  which  to  instruct  her  children, 

In  Miss  Pierce's  school  Harriet  Beecher  laid  the 
foundations  for  her  understanding  of  the  history 
and  principles  of  our  national  government  which 
in  due  time  made  it  possible  for  her  to  write  the 
biographies  of  a  number  of  our  most  distinguished 
statesmen,  and  to  talk  with  Abraham  Lincoln  in 
1862  with  some  comprehension  of  his  problems. 

Harriet  must  have  been  a  brilliant  little  student. 
iWriting  compositions,  which  is  such  a  burden  to 
most  young  scholars,  she  seems  to  have  found  only 
a  delight.  To  this  work  she  must  have  been  trained 
from  her  earliest  days,  for  her  mother  had  always 
maintained  a  sort  of  home  school  in  the  family; 
and  when  Dr.  Beecher  was  off  on  some  ministerial 
quest  he  did  not  fail  to  send  home  on  time  the  lists 
of  composition  subjects  and  outlines  that  he  had 


HARRIET   BEECHER'S   SCHOOLING 

agreed  to  arrange  for  Mrs.  Beecher  to  use  in  her 
work  with  these  pupils.  Here  are  some  of  the 
subjects :  The  Difference  between  the  Natural  and 
Moral  Sublime,  The  Comparative  Merits  of  Milton 
and  Shakespeare,  The  Comparative  Merits  of  the 
Athenian  and  Lacedaemonian  Systems  of  Educa 
tion,  and,  Can  the  Benevolence  of  Deity  be  Proved 
by  the  Light  of  Nature?  Profound  subjects!  But 
when  the  young  people  were  sharpening  up  their 
wits  on  such  whetstones  as  these,  it  is  not  so  strange 
that  a  little  girl  of  twelve,  who  was  filled  with  the 
spirit  of  aspiration  and  fired  with  curiosity  about 
everything  in  the  universe,  should  try  her  pen  at 
the  most  difficult  among  them. 

Her  question  was  phrased  in  this  way:  Can 
the  Immortality  of  the  Soul  Be  Proved  by  the 
Light  of  Nature?  And  her  essay,  when  handed 
in,  was  thought  to  be  quite  wonderful.  And  in 
deed  it  was  wonderful;  for  even  if  the  ideas  were 
overheard  by  her  in  the  classes  of  older  pupils  or 
in  the  table  talk  of  her  father  at  home,  to  set 
them  down  in  order  and  arrange  them  effectively 
was  a  great  achievement.  This  precious  essay  has 
been  preserved  and  is  reproduced  in  full  in  the 
"Life  of  Mrs.  Stowe,"  by  her  son,  published  in 
1889.  The  learned  subject  is  treated  in  the  most 
systematic  manner;  the  introduction,  the  point  of 
view  and  arrangement  of  thought  under  separate 
heads. 

The  exhibition  day  came.    The  hall  was  crowded 

47 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

with  all  the  literati  of  Litchfield.  Before  this  dis 
tinguished  audience  all  the  compositions  were  read 
aloud.  Harriet's  father  was  present  and  was  sitting 
on  high  by  the  side  of  the  teacher.  When  they 
read  Harriet's  piece  she  was  closely  watching  her 
father's  face,  and  she  saw  that  it  visibly  brightened. 
He  looked  really  interested,  and  at  the  close  she 
heard  him  say,  "Who  wrote  that  composition?" 
"Your  daughter,  sir."  was  the  answer.  It  was  the 
proudest  moment  of  Harriet's  life.  She  could  not 
mistake  the  expression  of  her  father's  face  when 
he  was  listening  to  the  essay;  she  knew  that 
he  was  pleased,  and  to  have  him  interested  was 
the  greatest  triumph  that  her  heart  could  ask. 

The  teacher  that  answered  Dr.  Beecher  was  a 
nephew  of  Miss  Pierce,  Mr.  J.  P.  Brace,  who 
assisted  her  in  the  work  of  the  school.  He  must 
have  been  one  of  those  strong  and  spicy  old  New 
England  schoolmasters  that  Mrs.  Stone  speaks  of 
in  "Men  of  Our  Times."  A  well-informed  and 
cultivated  man,  a  writer  of  romances  himself,  and 
especially  gifted  in  conversational  power,  he  must 
have  been  a  stimulating  and  inspiring  instructor. 
An  enthusiast  in  botany,  mineralogy,  and  the 
natural  sciences  generally,  he  filled  the  students  with 
an  enthusiasm  that  made  gathering  specimens  and 
making  herbariums  an  easy  task.  He  kept  up 
a  constant  conversation  on  a  great  variety  of  sub 
jects,  better  calculated  to  develop  the  mind  and 


HARRIET    BEECHER'S    SCHOOLING 

to  inspire  love  of  literature  than  any  mere  routine 
could  have  been.  Harriet  afterward  declared  that 
she  gained  more  from  hearing  the  recitations  and 
discussions  in  the  classes  of  the  older  pupils  than 
from  her  own  work.  There  from  hour  to  hour  she 
listened  with  eager  ears  to  historical  criticisms  and 
discussion  of  such  works  as  Paley's  "Moral 
Philosophy,"  Blair's  "Rhetoric,"  and  Alison  on 
"Taste." 

In  composition  Mr.  Brace  excelled  all  teachers 
she  ever  knew.  The  constant  interest  that  he 
aroused  in  the  minds  of  his  pupils,  the  wide  and 
varied  regions  of  thought  into  which  he  led  them, 
formed  a  perfect  preparation  for  their  work  in 
composition.  He  made  them  feel  that  they  had 
something  which  they  wanted  to  say,  and  this  is 
the  main  requisite  for  success  in  writing. 

Those  were  very  busy,  happy  days  for  Harriet, 
probably  the  days  she  had  in  mind  when  she  wrote 
in  "Oldtown  Folks":  "Certainly  of  all  the  days 
that  I  look  back  upon,  this  Academy  life  in  Cloud- 
land  was  the  most  perfectly  happy.  ...  It 
was  happy  because  we  were  in  the  first  flush  of  belief 
in  ourselves  and  in  life.  Oh,  that  first  belief !  those 
incredible  first  visions!  when  all  things  look  pos 
sible,  and  one  believes  in  the  pot  of  gold  at  the 
end  of  the  rainbow  and  sees  enchanted  palaces  in 
the  sunset  clouds!  What  faith  we  had  in  one  an 
other,  and  how  wonderful  we  were  in  one  an- 

49 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

other's  eyes!  .  .  .  We  believed  that  we  had 
secrets  of  happiness  and  progress  known  only  to 
ourselves.  We  had  full  faith  in  one  another's 
destiny ;  we  were  all  remarkable  people  and  destined 
to  do  great  things!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

THE  account  of  Harriet's  education  may  sound 
somewhat  meager  to  those  who  do  not 
look  beneath  the  surface.  But  it  must  be 
remembered  that  her  own  family  formed  an  educa 
tional  institution  in  itself.  New  England  was  cele 
brated,  as  Mrs.  Stowe  afterwards  said,  for  "crisp 
originalities  of  character."  And  even  against  this 
background  the  Beecher  family  stood  out  as  a 
"sharp-cut  and  peculiar  set."  These  highly  in 
dividual  qualities  in  her  parents  and  in  her  brothers 
and  sisters  made  a  constant  current  of  life  beneath 
the  roof  of  the  Beecher  parsonage.  It  was  an 
education  to  hear  her  father  discuss  things,  whether 
at  dinner  or  at  wood-sawing  or  on  a  picnic ;  for  he 
was  like  a  high-mettled  horse  in  a  pasture,  as  Mrs. 
Stowe  said  of  one  of  her  characters  in  her  novel, 
"My  Wife  and  I";  he  enjoyed  once  in  a  while 
having  a  free  argumentative  race  all  round  the 
theological  lot.  But  this  discussion  was  by  no 
means  left  to  the  leader  alone ;  all  the  children  were 
5  i 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

expected  to  take  part.  The  home  circle  thus  be 
came  a  great  lyceum  of  thought.  The  rule  of  these 
debates  was  that  each  one  should  contribute  his 
thought  and  bear  his  part  with  boldness,  inde 
pendence  and  originality.  In  this  way  the  father 
trained  the  children  in  toughness,  tenacity  and  en 
durance.  Harriet's  father  would  have  disowned 
any  child  that  refrained  in  fair  argument  from 
putting  forth  every  atom  of  logical  strength  he 
possessed.  Every  boy  was  expected,  in  supporting 
his  opinions,  to  exert  himself  to  the  utmost,  but 
without  sophistry  or  unfairness.  Against  a  refusal 
to  argue  or  a  resort  to  evasion  or  trick,  the  father's 
anger  burned  like  fire.  And  no  child  was  allowed 
to  find  fault  if  his  arguments  were  roughly  handled, 
or  to  grumble  and  get  angry  if  he  were  bruised  or 
floored  in  fair  debate.  A  stranger  looking  upon 
some  hotly  contested  discussion  might  have  said 
that  the  doctor  and  his  children  were  angry  with 
each  other.  Never!  They  were  only  in  earnest. 
Moreover,  the  great  household  was  filled  with  a 
spirit  of  active  service,  carried  out  with  cheerful 
ness  and  even  hilarity.  Or  if  perchance  the  will 
for  obedience  deflected  a  little  from  perfection,  the 
father's  sharp  call,  "Mind  your  mother.  Quick! 
No  crying!  Look  pleasant!"  was  sufficient  to  bring 
stragglers  into  line  at  once. 

The  work  and  plans  and  interests  of  the  house 
hold  went  on  like  a  great  well-balanced  machine, 
in  which  one  little  cog,  that  good  child  Harriet, 

52 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

was  taking  its  part  according  to  its  ability.  Harriet 
was  also  getting  ready  to  perform  a  greater  part, 
for  all  these  home  experiences  were  turning  in  a 
direction  that  gave  her  a  special  preparation  for 
her  life-work. 

At  this  time  Harriet's  older  sister,  Catherine, 
was  considered  by  far  the  more  promising  daughter. 
She  did  become  a  most  efficient  woman,  who  wrote 
a  long  list  of  educational  books  and  who  had  a 
great  influence  on  the  schools  of  her  time  through 
out  the  country.  When  Harriet  was  in  the  early 
teens,  however,  Catherine  was  simply  a  brilliant 
young  woman,  efficient,  sparkling  and  full  of  life. 
She  caused  a  breath  of  mirth  to  flow  through  the 
home  every  minute,  even  the  stern  father  being 
indulgent  toward  her  pranks  and  jokes.  She  made 
every  occurrence  the  subject  of  a  bit  of  composition 
in  prose  or  in  verse,  like  the  "epithet"  for  the  kit. 
Everything  was  turned  into  literary  expression; 
the  disappearance  of  a  favorite  calf  inspired  a 
threnody;  if  a  precious  brown-edged  platter  was 
smashed,  an  epic  poem  was  forthwith  composed; 
if  a  marriage  took  place  among  the  cousins,  a  ballad 
appeared  into  which  the  names  of  all  the  guests 
were'  woven  and  which  was  learned  by  heart  by 
every  one  and  was  quoted  for  months. 

In  such  an  atmosphere  as  this  it  is  not  strange 
that  the  bent  of  Harriet's  mind  toward  writing 
should  have  been  strengthened.  The  wonder  is  not 
that  she  developed  in  that  direction,  but  that  she 

53 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

did  not  begin  to  write  even  earlier  than  she  did. 
We  shall  see  that  the  reasons  for  that  were  suffi 
cient. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  about  Harriet's  father, 
but  her  mother  must  have  a  special  word  also.  It 
could  be  said  of  her,  as  it  has  been  of  another 
ideal  woman  of  history,  that  to  know  her  was  in 
itself  an  education.  Roxana  Foote  Beecher  be 
longed  to  the  old  Guilford  Foote  family,  so  con 
spicuous  for  intellectual  and  social  attainments  in 
the  early  New  England  days.  One  of  Harriet's 
sisters,  in  writing  to  her  daughter  of  the  Foote 
homestead  at  Nut  Plains  near  Guilford,  said: 
"These  Footes  are  a  people  by  themselves  in  their 
literary  accomplishments,  their  good  sense  and  fine 
breeding.  Their  homestead  almost  talks  to  you 
from  its  very  walls  of  the  days  gone  by.  I  never 
felt  more  sure  of  spirit  companionship  of  the 
highest  order,  and  your  father  thinks  few  parlors 
in  all  the  land  have  gathered  a  more  noble  company. 
The  place  is  full  of  rich  and  inspiring  associations." 

In  this  Foote  family  there  were  traditions  that 
must  have  been  especially  inspiring  to  a  child  like 
Harriet  Beecher.  One  of  the  stories  centered  about 
a  young  girl  named  Lucinda  Foote,  who  was  born 
in  Chester,  Connecticut,  only  a  few  years  before 
Roxana  Beecher's  time.  She  displayed  great  taste 
for  study  and  attained  a  distinction  that  not  many 
other  girls  of  her  time  gained.  She  was  the 

54 


EDUCATION    IN   THE    HOME 

daughter  of  the  Reverend  John  Foote,  the  minister 
in  Chester,  a  man  distinguished  for  his  scholarship. 

Little  Lucinda  Foote  studied  the  "learned  lan 
guages/'  as  they  were  called,  that  is,  Latin  and 
Greek,  and  when  she  was  only  twelve  years  old  she 
was  examined  in  them  by  the  President  of  Yale 
College,  the  great  Ezra  Stiles.  He  testified  in  a 
parchment  which  is  one  of  the  precious  treasures 
among  her  descendants  that  she  had  shown  com 
mendable  progress  in  these  studies,  giving  the  mean 
ing  of  passages  in  the  yEneid  of  Virgil,  the  select 
Orations  of  Cicero  and  also  in  the  Greek  Testa 
ment,  and  that  she  was  "fully  qualified  except  in 
regard  to  sex  to  be  received  as  a  pupil  in  the  fresh 
man  class  in  Yale  University."  It  may  satisfy  a 
natural  curiosity  to  add  that  this  child  afterwards 
privately  pursued  a  full  collegiate  course,  including 
Hebrew,  under  President  Stiles;  was  married  at 
the  age  of  eighteen;  had  ten  children  and  lived  to 
be  sixty-two  years  old !  In  fact,  as  the  elderly  Mrs. 
Cornwall,  wife  of  the  physician  in  Chester,  Harriet 
Beecher  may  possibly  have  seen  her  as  she  passed 
through  the  village  in  the  stage  coach  on  her  way 
to  visit  her  aunts  in  Guilford. 

The  traditions  of  this  highly  intellectual  family 
were  carried  on  excellently  by  Roxana  Foote.  Even 
in  her  girlhood,  when  the  spinning-wheel  was  her 
daily  companion,  it  was  a  habit  of  hers  to  adorn 
one  end  of  the  wheel  beam  with  the  pile  of  fleecy 
rolls  ready  for  the  spinning  and  then  to  lay  on 

55 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

the  other  end  an  open  book  which,  with  its  face 
down,  waited  for  the  minute  when  her  conscience 
would  allow  her  to  leave  her  work  and  pore  for 
a  while  over  its  pages.  Roxana's  grandfather, 
General  Ward,  used  to  tell  a  story  about  his  three 
granddaughters.  He  said  that  when  the  three 
girls  came  down  in  the  morning  Harriet  Ward's 
voice  would  be  heard  briskly  calling,  "Here!  take 
the  broom;  sweep  up;  make  a  fire;  make  haste!" 
Betsy  Chittenden  would  say,  "I  wonder  what  ribbon 
it's  best  to  wear  at  that  party  ?"  But  Roxana  Foote 
would  say,  "Which  do  you  think  was  the  greater 
general,  Hannibal  or  Alexander?" 

Roxana  took  advantage  of  every  opportunity  for 
culture.  From  a  French  gentleman  who,  after  the 
massacres  at  San  Domingo  had  taken  refuge  in  this 
country  and  settled  in  Guilford,  she  learned  French 
and  became  able  to  speak  it  fluently.  He  lent  her 
the  best  French  authors,  which  she  studied  as  she 
spun  flax,  tying  the  book,  face  forward,  to  the 
distaff.  She  had  a  brother  who  went  into  business 
in  New  York ;  while  visiting  him  she  studied  draw 
ing  and  painting  with  water  colors  and  in  oils; 
afterwards  when  any  problem  in  perspective  puzzled 
her  she  flew  to  the  encyclopedia  and  was  not  con 
tent  till  she  had  overcome  the  difficulty.  She  was 
highly  gifted  in  artistic  execution  of  many  kinds. 
She  painted  miniature  portraits  upon  ivory  for 
various  members  of  her  family  and  for  her  pupils 
and  rarely  failed  to  get  a  good  likeness.  Her 

56 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

needlework  was  a  marvel  in  its  delicacy  and  com 
plexity;  bobbin  lace  and  cobweb  stitch  like  hers 
have  now  passed  out  of  memory.  The  house  was 
full  of  works  of  ingenuity  devised  by  her  which 
adorned  wall  and  furniture  and  drapery.  Her 
famous  Russian  stove,  made  with  the  aid  of  a  mason 
from  the  description  in  her  encyclopedia,  warmed 
six  rooms  with  less  fuel  than  many  of  her  neigh 
bors  used  for  a  single  fire.  In  fact,  the  second  Mrs. 
Beecher  declared  that  this  wonderful  stove  entirely 
annihilated  the  winter  indoors. 

Under  her  mother's  guidance,  Catherine,  at  about 
fourteen,  decorated  with  landscapes  a  new  chamber 
set  of  beautiful  white  wood,  the  bureau,  dressing- 
table,  candlestand,  washstand  and  bedstead.  She 
surrounded  the  pictures  with  garlands  of  flowers 
and  fruits,  and  then  varnished  them  according  to  a 
recipe  in  the  same  encyclopedia.  Once  Dr.  Beecher 
sent  home  a  whole  bale  of  cotton  which  he  bought 
just  because  it  was  cheap.  Roxana  found  a  use 
for  this  commodity.  She  conceived  the  idea  of 
making  a  carpet  of  it — a  thing  unheard  of  in  the 
little  Long  Island  town  where  they  began  their 
housekeeping  together.  In  that  primitive  place  they 
still  covered  their  floors  with  sand  dampened  and 
smoothed  over,  marking  this  smooth  surface  with 
the  broom  in  zig-zag  lines  if  they  wanted  decora 
tion.  But  Mrs.  Beecher' s  artistic  mind  took  a 
higher  flight.  She  carded  and  spun  the  bale  of 
cotton,  had  it  woven,  cut  and  sewed  it  to  fit  the 

57 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

parlor,  and  then  stretched  it  on  the  garret  floor  to 
begin  the  operations.  Here  she  brushed  it  over 
with  thin  paste  to  make  a  stiff  foundation.  Mean 
time  she  had  sent  to  her  brother  in  New  York  for 
paints  and  had  learned  from  the  invaluable  en 
cyclopedia  how  to  use  them.  She  painted  flowers 
and  leaves  in  groups  on  this  background,  taking 
for  models  the  plants  in  her  own  garden.  The 
carpet,  when  it  was  done,  was  the  admiration  of 
the  whole  town,  but  the  deacons,  when  they  came 
to  the  door,  did  not  dare  to  step  on  anything  so 
splendid;  they  also  thought  it  a  sin  to  make  the 
room  so  magnificent  that  the  splendors  of  Heaven 
would  lose  their  attractiveness!  "Do  you  think," 
said  one  of  them,  "that  you  can  have  all  of  this 
and  Heaven  besides  ?" 

It  is  difficult  to  say  what  her  chief  interests  were, 
she  was  so  full  of  activities.  She  loved  works  on 
philosophy  and  on  science,  and  was  ingenious  in 
making  devices  for  experiments  in  natural  phil 
osophy.  She  was  intensely  interested  in  all  the  new 
books  of  poetry.  Writing  to  her  sailor  brother 
Samuel,  she  besought  him  to  come  up  to  Litchfield 
to  visit  them.  "Just  pack  yourself  into  the  chaise," 
she  said,  "and  come  up  here  and  see  how  pleasant 
it  is  in  winter.  You  might  fancy  yourself  at  sea 
now  and  then  when  we  have  a  brisk  breeze,  with 
the  help  of  a  little  imagination.  You  might  find 
sundry  other  things  to  amuse  you.  I  have  a  new 
philosophical  work  you  may  study  and  some  new 

58 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

poems  you  may  read."  This  was  in  November, 
1814,  when  Harriet  was  two  years  old;  while  her 
mother  was  writing  Harriet  was  clinging  about  her 
neck  praying  her  to  stop  writing  and  make  her  a 
doll  baby! 

Mrs.  Beecher  was  modest  and  retiring  in  the 
highest  degree,  so  that  she  could  not  speak  with  a 
stranger  or  a  guest  without  having  the  beautiful 
color  sweep  over  her  face;  and  she  was  so  shy  that 
she  could  never  lead  the  weekly  "female  prayer- 
meeting";  yet  she  had  so  much  tact  that  she  never 
angered  her  impetuous  husband,  and  she  was  the 
life  and  the  center  of  the  Beecher  home. 

But  details  like  these,  after  all,  give  us  very  little 
insight  into  her  real  character.  We  may  perhaps 
judge  what  sort  of  woman  she  was  by  the  influence 
she  had  upon  her  children. 

From  what  Harriet  said  of  her  we  can  see  that 
she  must  have  been  the  very  quintessence  of  woman 
liness,  of  motherliness.  Harriet  said:  "Mother 
was  one  of  those  strong,  restful,  yet  widely  sym 
pathetic  natures,  in  whom  all  around  seemed  to 
find  comfort  and  repose.  She  was  of  a  tempera 
ment  peculiarly  restful  and  peace-giving.  Her 
union  of  spirit  with  God,  unruffled  and  unbroken 
even  from  very  early  childhood,  seemed  to  impart 
to  her  an  equilibrium  and  healthful  placidity  that 
no  earthly  reverses  ever  disturbed."  In  almost 
every  book  that  Mrs.  Stowe  wrote  she  pays  tribute 
to  her  mother  in  her  pictures  of  motherly  feeling. 

59 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

All  the  mother  influence  upon  St.  Clair  in  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  is  Harriet's  offering  upon  the  altar 
of  her  own  mother's  memory. 

Harriet's  brother,  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  said 
that  the  loss  of  his  mother  was  like  a  cheating  of 
his  heart's  best  possession.  All  his  life  long  he  felt 
that  there  was  a  moral  power  in  his  memory  of  her 
— one  of  those  invisible  blessings  that  faith  compre 
hends,  but  that  cannot  be  weighed  or  estimated. 

We  may  come  a  little  nearer  yet  to  an  under 
standing  of  Roxana  Foote's  character  if  we  take 
a  quotation  from  one  of  her  letters  written  to  Dr. 
Beecher  before  their  marriage.  Old-time  love- 
letters  were  of  a  more  serious  kind  than  those  of 
to-day.  When  the  prevailing  thought  of  a  time 
dwelt  upon  religious  questions  it  was  but  natural 
that  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  one  beloved 
should  be  of  the  deepest  concern  to  the  lover.  With 
such  a  thought  we  may  read  this  passage  which  .is 
given  as  a  light  upon  the  inner  impulses  and  char 
acter  of  Harriet's  mother. 

Roxana's  lover  had,  it  seems,  asked  her  certain 
perplexing  questions  as  to  her  religious  experience. 
In  answer  she  said :  "You  ask,  when  I  feel  a 
degree  of  joy,  whether  it  arises  from  anything  I 
perceive  in  the  character  of  God  that  charms  me, 
or  from  anything  that  I  perceive  in  myself  that  I 
think  will  charm  God?  I  think  the  former.  .  .  . 
In  contemplating  the  character  of  God,  His  mercy 
and  goodness  are  most  present  to  my  mind,  and  as 

60 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

it  were  swallow  up  His  other  attributes.  The  over 
flowing  goodness  that  has  created  multitudes  of 
human  beings  that  He  might  communicate  to  them 
a  part  of  His  happiness,  and  which  openeth  His 
hand  and  filleth  all  things  with  plenteousness,  I 
can  contemplate  with  delight.  ...  I  can  not 
now  describe  what  have  been  my  feelings  before, 
but  on  Sunday  night  I  experienced  emotions  which 
I  can  find  no  language  to  describe.  I  seemed  carried 
to  Heaven  and  thought  that  neither  height  nor 
depth  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  should 
be  able  to  separate  me  from  the  love  of  God,  which 
is  in  Christ  Jesus.  Yet,  if  I  feel  a  degree  of  joy, 
I  fear  to  indulge  it  and  tremble  at  every  emotion 
of  pleasure.  Last  night  I  was  almost  in  Heaven, 
but  sunk  to  earth  again  by  fears  that  I  should 
rejoice  without  cause,  but  when  I  prayed  my  fears 
seemed  to  remove."  * 

When  we  read  such  a  love-letter  as  this  we  can 
a  little  understand  how  every  son  of  that  mother 
should  become  a  notable  minister  of  the  Gospel  and 
each  daughter  a  source  of  wide  influence  for  good. 

It  is  also  a  matter  beyond  dispute  that  a  mother 
with  such  tastes  and  accomplishments  as  Mrs. 
Beecher  possessed  would  see  to  it  that  the  edu 
cation  of  her  daughters  on  the  artistic  side  should 
not  be  neglected.  And  in  fact  there  was  need — at 

1  From  Lyman  Beecher's  "Autobiography,"  1866,  Vol.  I,  pp. 
85-86. 

6l 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

any  rate  we  should  think  so  to-day.  In  the  Litch- 
field  Female  Academy  there  was  indeed  some  in 
struction  in  art.  Painting,  embroidery  and  the 
piano  were  at  that  time  considered  the  essential 
things  in  the  proper  education  of  a  young  lady. 
The  description  that  Aurora  Leigh  gives  of  the  in 
struction  she  received  at  the  hands  of  her  English 
aunts  in  the  first  book  of  Mrs.  Browning's  great 
poem,  "Aurora  Leigh,"  belongs  to  about  the  same 
period  and  will  be  considered  sufficiently  laughable 
by  the  girls  of  to-day.  Ideas  in  New  England  were 
not  very  different  from  these.  In  the  Academy  in 
Litchfield  they  painted  flowers  that  were  delicate 
and  stiff;  they  worked  samplers  and  coats  of  arms 
in  chenille  and  floss;  pastoral  pieces  were  in  great 
favor,  representing  fair  young  shepherdesses  sitting 
with  crooks  in  their  hands  on  green  chenille  banks, 
tending  animals  of  uncertain  description  which 
were  to  be  received  by  faith  as  sheep.  There  were 
mourning  pieces  with  a  willow  tree  by  a  family 
monument  and  weeping  mourners  with  faces  art 
fully  concealed  by  flowing  pocket-handkerchiefs. 
The  sweet  confiding  innocence,  said  Mrs.  Stowe 
with  gentle  irony  in  "Oldtown  Folks,"  which  re 
garded  the  making  of  objects  like  these  as  more 
suited  to  the  tender  female  character  than  the  pur 
suit  of  Latin  and  mathematics  was  characteristic 
of  the  ancient  regime.  Did  not  Penelope  em 
broider,  and  all  sorts  of  princesses,  ancient  and 
modern  ?  And  was  not  embroidery  a  true  feminine 

62 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

grace?  *  We  may  well  doubt  if  Harriet  took  much 
interest  in  these  beasts  of  floss  and  chenille  and 
probably  preferred,  as  we  should  think  she  would, 
her  childhood  landscapes  of  gray  and  brown  mosses. 
But  when  she  was  older  and  could  follow  her  home 
instruction  in  painting  she  gained  a  skill  that  made 
sketching  landscapes  and  other  work  in  water  color 
a  resource  to  her  all  her  life. 

In  music,  too,  Harriet  was  not  without  oppor 
tunities  for  culture.  Her  mother,  Roxana,  played 
the  guitar  from  her  girlhood.  Her  father  was  de 
voted  to  the  violin  which  always  lay  near  him  in 
the  attic  study  to  be  taken  up  whenever  the  strain 
of  his  work  made  him  feel  the  need  of  relaxation. 
Under  the  influence  of  such  parents  it  is  not  strange 
that  every  member  of  the  Beecher  family  began 
singing  at  a  very  early  age.  One  of  Harriet's 
sisters  said  that  she  learned  to  read  music  by  note 
as  soon  as  she  learned  to  read  print.  Dr.  Beecher 
must  have  had  the  soul  of  music  within  him.  He 
once  said  that  if  he  could  play  what  he  heard  inside 
his  soul  he  would  beat  Paganini.  But  not  being 
able  to  do  that  he  had  to  content  himself  with 
"Merrily  O"  and  other  melodies  of  a  simple  sort. 
But  whatever  he  may  have  lacked  in  execution  he 
managed  at  every  church  he  served  as  minister  to 

1  See  the  productions  of  the  wonderful  lace  and  em 
broideries  done  by  pupils  of  the  Litchfield  Female  Academy 
in  "Chronicles  of  a  Pioneer  School,"  by  Emily  Noyes  Van- 
derpoel,  1903. 

63 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

infuse  into  the  singing  a  portion  of  his  own  buoyant 
enthusiasm.  In  earlier  days  the  Puritan  singing 
had  been  of  a  plaintive  and  minor  kind.  Lyman 
Beecher  called  forth  a  song  of  a  bolder,  livelier, 
more  triumphant  character,  and  uniting  his  en 
deavors  with  those  of  Lowell  Mason,  the  great 
leader  in  later  New  England  hymnology,  he  worked 
a  great  change  in  the  psalmody  of  his  country. 

We  do  not  think  of  the  New  England  meeting 
house  as  being  the  home  of  music,  but  to  Harriet 
Beecher  the  singing  in  the  Sabbath  service  must 
have  meant  a  great  deal.  The  Puritan  music,  with 
its  solemn  undertone  of  deep  emotion,  had  a 
mysterious  power  over  her.  When  the  "wild 
warble"  of  "St.  Martin's,"  which  ran  like  this : 


St.Martin-8 


m 


1  •  '  J  j 


r  ' 

or  "China"  with  its  weird  yet  majestic  movement 
of  which  this  first  line  may  remind  us : 

China 

tto      "I    I   ••     '1     I   :     J   I  I   I  I  I 

when  these  old  beloved  tunes  swelled  and  rever 
berated  through  the  church  they  expressed  to  her 
a  solemn  assurance  of  victory.  In  the  old  fuguing 
tunes,  too,  there  was  a  wild  freedom  and  energy 
of  motion  that  came  from  the  heart  of  a  people  who 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

had  been  courageous  in  combat  and  unshaken  in 
endurance.  They  were  like  the  ocean  when  it  is 
aroused  by  stormy  winds  when  deep  calleth  unto 
deep  in  tempestuous  confusion,  from  which  at  last 
is  evolved  peace  and  harmony.  Whatever  a  trained 
musician  might  say  of  such  a  tune  as  old 
"Majesty,"  no  person  of  imagination  and  sensibility 
could  ever  hear  it  well  rendered  by  a  large  choir 
without  deep  emotion.  So  thought  Harriet;  and 
when  back  and  forth  from  every  side  of  the  church 
came  the  different  parts  shouting 

On  cherubim  and  seraphim, 

Full  royally  He  rode, 
And  on  the  wings  of  mighty  winds, 

Came  flying  all  abroad, 

there  was  at  least  one  young  heart  in  the  audience 
that  could  scarcely  contain  its  rapture  and  that  held 
itself  quite  still  until  the  tempest  sank  away  to  peace 
in  the  words : 

He  sat  serene  upon  the  floods, 

Their  fury  to  restrain, 
And  He,  as  sovereign  Lord  and  King, 

Forevermore  shall  reign. 

Stirred  to  the  depths  by  songs  such  as  this  on  Sun 
day,  Harriet  came  home  to  a  family  that  were  mak 
ing  the  rafters  ring  with  music  all  the  week.  A 
fine-toned  upright  piano,  which  some  lucky  accident 

65 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

had  brought  within  the  means  of  the  poor  minister, 
had  been  early  brought  all  the  way  from  New 
Haven;  Harriet  said  that  never  was  ark  of  the 
covenant  brought  into  the  tabernacle  with  such 
gladness  as  when  this  magical  instrument  came  into 
their  abode.  Then  indeed  was  the  house  filled  with 
music.  Catherine  and  Harriet  had  regular  instruc 
tion  from  a  charming  and  beautiful  performer. 
Edward  and  William  learned  to  play  on  the  flute. 
Dr.  Beecher  brought  out  his  riddle,  and  many  even 
ings  were  given  to  concerts  in  which  piano,  violin, 
flute  and  voice  united,  and  Scotch  ballads  and 
hymns  and  chorals  resounded  through  the  house^ 
Sunday  evening  was  a  particularly  pleasant  time 
in  the  Beecher  home.  Something  of  the  old  law 
about  Sunday  observance  ending  at  sundown  still 
held  in  New  England.  And  when  the  boys,  who 
were  closely  watching,  had  at  last  seen  the  re 
quired  three  stars  come  out — why,  that  decided  the 
matter;  it  was  really  evening,  the  Sabbath  was 
over,  and  playing  could  now  begin  without  making 
their  consciences  prick.  When  the  preaching  was 
done  for  the  day,  Dr.  Beecher  would  join  the 
family,  and  music  would  be  in  order.  Never  was 
the  father  so  entertaining  as  at  this  time.  He  was 
lively,  sparkling,  jocose.  He  got  out  the  old  yellow 
music  book  and  his  faithful  friend,  the  violin,  and 
played  "Auld  Lang  Syne,"  "Bonnie  Doon,"  "Mary's 
Dream"  and  other  favorites.  On  week  day  even 
ings  a  concert  like  this  ended  with  "Money  Musk" 

66 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

and  "College  Hornpipe,"  and  perhaps  after  the 
mother  had  gone  to  bed  the  father  would  exhibit 
the  wonders  of  a  double  shuffle  remembered  from 
the  corn-huskings  of  his  youth;  but  it  is  said  that 
the  results  on  the  feet  of  his  stockings  made  the 
female  authorities  frown  on  them  to  such  a  degree 
that  after  a  while  the  exhibition  became  a  rare 
treat. 

But  there  were  other  ways  in  which  the  high 
spirits  of  this  sometimes  frisky  parent  amused  the 
family.  For  instance,  in  pursuance  of  a  sort  of 
dare  the  musical  father  went  through  the  house 
before  the  housekeeper  was  up,  energetically  play 
ing  "Yankee  Doodle."  At  another  time  when  he 
was  tired  of  theological  study  he  began  to  play  the 
fiddle  under  the  schoolroom  (in  the  days  when  they 
had  a  school  in  the  home),  much  to  the  delight 
of  the  pupils;  but  the  mother  came  downstairs,  took 
the  instrument  gently  from  his  hands,  carried  it  up 
stairs,  and  laid  it  on  the  desk  in  the  schoolroom. 
This  closed  that  incident  and  gave  us  an  example 
of  the  mother's  tact  in  managing  a  rather  difficult 
situation. 

But  not  to  dwell  upon  the  jocose  side  of  things 
which  kept  the  life  in  the  Beecher  home  from  be 
coming  too  serious  and  dull  for  the  welfare  of  a 
company  of  little  ones  who  were  full  of  activity 
that  needed  outlet,  it  is  plain  that  there  were  many 
broadening  educative  influences  about  Harriet 
Beecher  in  her  own  immediate  home. 
6  67 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

These  were  also  supplemented  by  others  of  a 
still  wider  character.  When  Harriet  stayed  at  the 
Foote  homestead  in  Nut  Plains  down  near  Guilford 
she  slept  in  a  bed  that  was  hung  with  curtains  of 
printed  India  linen  on  which  bloomed  strange  mam 
moth  plants  with  endless  convolutions  of  branches 
in  whose  hollows  appeared  Chinese  summer  houses 
adorned  with  countless  bells  which  gay  Chinese  at 
tendants  were  ever  in  the  act  of  ringing  with  a 
hammer.  There  were  also  sleepy-looking  man 
darins,  and  birds  bigger  than  the  mandarins. 
Drowsy  little  girl  Harriet  wondered  why  the  bells 
did  not  ring  when  struck,  and  why  the  mandarins 
never  came  out  of  their  summer  houses. 

These  Oriental  treasures  were  brought  by  a 
famous  sea-faring  uncle  of  Harriet's,  Uncle  Samuel 
Foote.  He  had  been  a  sailor  at  sixteen,  a  com 
mander  of  a  ship  at  twenty-one.  And  he,  of  course, 
was  Harriet's  hero  of  romance.  He  it  was  that 
brought  the  frankincense  from  Spain,  the  mementos 
of  the  Alhambra  and  of  the  ancient  Moors.  He 
sent  mats  and  baskets,  almonds  and  raisins  from 
Mogadore,  Oriental  caps  and  slippers,  South 
American  ingots  of  silver  and  hammocks  wrought 
by  the  Southern  Indian  tribes.  And  when  he  came 
speaking  French  and  Spanish  and  full  of  the  very 
atmosphere  of  a  great  and  wonderful  world  that 
lay  beyond  the  rims  of  the  mountains,  what  stories 
of  adventure  the  children  could  hear!  What  dis 
cussions  about  the  respective  value  of  Turk  and 

68 


EDUCATION    IN    THE    HOME 

Christian!  What  keen  observations  upon  all  life 
everywhere ! 

And  this  uncle  always  brought  a  box  of  books, 
the  newest  thing,  the  latest.  He  it  was  that  sent 
up  into  the  hills  the  wonderful  "Salmagundi"  of 
Irving  the  minute  it  was  printed.  He  kept  track 
of  everything  that  Roxana  might  desire  and  saw 
to  it  that  she  received  the  last  word  in  philosophy, 
art  and  poetry. 

Still  other  opportunities  were  given  to  the  acutely 
'observing  little  girl  to  know  the  great  outside 
world,  its  interests,  its  burdens.  There  was,  for 
instance,  Aunt  Mary  Hubbard  who,  returning  from 
San  Domingo,  opened  a  vista  into  a  life  full  of 
romance  and  tragedy.  This  admired  aunt  braids 
strangely  into  the  pattern  of  Harriet's  life,  as  we 
shall  see  in  a  later  chapter.  Then  Harriet's  father 
was  always  off  for  some  tour  of  theological  interest, 
bringing  back  a  refreshing  atmosphere  of  the  out 
side  world.  We  must  also  remember  that  Litch- 
field  was  full  of  young  men  who  came  to  attend 
the  Law  School  and  who  made  the  town  more  or 
less  breezy.  Among  them  was  a  French  count 
who  remembered  the  Beecher  family  to  his  latest 
days.  These  students  and  the  young  ladies  of  the 
Academy  came  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  each 
adding  to  the  enlargement  of  life  that  such  a  collec 
tion  of  personalities  always  brings. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE   BOOKS    SHE   READ 

IT  was  not  a  retired  and  quiet  life  that  Harriet 
lived  during  her  most  formative  years.  She 
was  on  an  intellectual  highway  and  at  a  cross 
roads  where  many  influences  of  the  richest  inspira 
tion  were  felt. 

The  town  attracted  fine  and  interesting  people 
from  everywhere;  and  from  all  of  them  she  was 
receiving  liberalizing  influences  that  were  helping 
to  make  of  her  the  great  woman  that  she  afterwards 
became. 

In  such  a  home  circle  as  that  of  the  Beechers, 
books  were  the  very  breath  of  life.  From  1799, 
when  Lyman  Beecher  and  Roxana  Foote  were 
married,  they  had  taken  the  Christian  Observer, 
a  paper  conducted  by  Macaulay,  Wilber force  and 
Hannah  More,  and  they  had  always  procured  as 
many  books  as  they  could  afford  of  those  that  were 
mentioned  in  that  paper.  A  valuable  encyclopedia 
came  to  the  household  as  a  gift  from  an  English 
gentleman  whose  daughters  had  boarded  with  the 

70 


THE    BOOKS    SHE    READ 

family.  This  bulky  and  useful  work  was  not,  as 
is  often  the  case  in  our  day  when  the  public  .library 
is  just  around  the  corner,  left  to  fall  to  pieces  on 
the  dusty  shelf,  but  it  was  made  a  constant  source 
of  reference  in  all  their  lively  discussions. 

It  may  be  thought  that  Harriet  would  have  a 
constant  resource  in  her  father's  library.  This  attic 
study  did  indeed  afford  her  a  harbor,  but  his  tastes 
and  necessities  were  naturally  for  theological  works 
and  the  walls  of  his  room  were  fairly  choked  with 
tall  volumes  for  his  own  use.  Searching  through 
such  a  library  as  this  Harriet's  despairing  and 
hungry  glances  found  only  such  titles  as  these: 
Bell's  "Sermons,"  Bogue's  "Essays,"  Monnet's 
"Inquiries,"  Toplady  on  "Predestination,"  Hous- 
ley's  "Tracts" — not  such  books  as  would  do  much 
toward  feeding  the  beauty-loving  instinct  of  a 
gifted  child. 

One  of  the  heroines  in  a  book  written  by  her 
when  she  was  a  woman  is  described  in  this  way: 
"She  was  well-read,  well-bred,  high-minded,  high- 
principled,  a  little  inclined  to  be  ultra-romantic, 
maybe."  We  may  surely  think  of  Harriet  as  fitting 
this  definition,  even  including  the  romantic  inclina 
tion — that  is,  she  was  fond  of  stories  of  adventure, 
and  was  full  of  high  feelings  and  enthusiasms.  It 
would  not  be  strange  if  the  story-loving  side  of  her 
nature  bloomed  a  little  shyly,  since  it  had  been  al 
most  starved.  But  it  could  not  die. 

This  spirit  of  lofty  enthusiasm  is  illustrated  by 
71 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

what  she  felt  when  as  a  little  girl  she  first  heard 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  read.  She  had  but 
a  vague  idea  of  what  it  meant,  but  she  gathered 
enough  from  the  recital  of  the  abuses  and  injuries 
that  had  driven  her  nation  to  revolt  to  feel  herself 
swelling  with  indignation  and  ready  with  all  her 
little  mind  and  strength  to  applaud  what  seemed  the 
resounding  majesty  of  the  Declaration.  She  was 
as  ready  as  any  one  to  pledge  her  life,  fortune  and 
sacred  honor  for  such  a  cause.  The  heroic  element 
was  strong  in  her.  It  had  come  down  from  a 
line  of  Puritan  ancestors ;  when  the  little  girl  heard 
that  document  read  the  spirit  of  her  father  swelled 
her  little  frame  and  brightened  her  cheeks  and 
made  her  long  to  do  something,  she  scarce  knew 
what,  to  fight  for  her  country  or  to  make  some 
declaration  on  her  own  account.  This  spirited 
child  needed  food  for  the  imagination  and  fancy. 
She  needed  contact  with  the  genius-lighted  minds 
of  the  past.  She  had  the  power  to  assimilate  a 
great  amount  of  intellectual  food,  and  she  was 
hungry  for  it. 

The  first  satisfaction  she  had  for  her  intense 
longing  for  what  she  would  call  interesting  reading 
was  in  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  of  Bunyan.  We 
know  how  deeply  this  sank  into  her  heart  from  the 
fact  that  in  the  books  she  wrote  she  often  illuminates 
her  thought  by  some  apt  illustration  from  the 
Pilgrim's  adventures.  That  her  mind  began  very 

72 


THE    BOOKS    SHE    READ, 

early  to  be  haunted  by  those  memories  of  the  Pil 
grim  we  know  from  one  story  about  her  youth. 

It  is  related  that  sometimes  when  she  was  prowl 
ing  about  in  the  back  attic  she  would  timidly  open 
a  little  door  that  she  found  in  the  side  of  the 
chimney  and  would  peer  into  the  dark  abyss  that 
yawned  within.  Looking  into  that  smoky  and  fear 
some  place,  she  was  reminded  of  the  door  that  the 
Pilgrim  found  in  the  walls  of  a  certain  valley,  an 
opening  which  was  the  way  that  hypocrites  go  in 
at,  whence  issued  the  scent  of  brimstone  together 
with  a  rumbling  noise  as  of  fire.  As  this  thought 
came  to  Harriet  she  would  shut  to  the  little  door 
in  the  chimney  with  a  bang  and  run  away  to  a  more 
friendly  part  of  the  house,  seeking  some  room  that 
might  perhaps  be  called  a  "Chamber  of  Peace." 

This  name  could  certainly  be  applied  to  her 
father's  study.  Harriet  loved  that  attic  of  her 
father's  with  its  quiet  and  its  rows  of  books.  There 
she  would  cuddle  down  in  a  corner  and  watch  her 
father  as  he  sat  in  his  great  writing  chair  with  his 
Bible  and  his  Cruden's  "Concordance"  and  now  and 
then  whispered  out  his  rapidly  forming  sermon. 
She  looked  about  upon  those  mysterious  books  with 
awe.  To  her  father  there  was  evidently  good  magic 
in  them,  but  to  her  their  charm  was  unrevealed. 
To  be  sure,  from  Harmer's  work  on  "Solomon's 
Song"  and  from  a  book  called  "The  State  of  the 
Clergy  during  the  French  Revolution,"  she  could 
gain  some  food  for  her  hungry  fancy.  There  was 

73 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

also  Cotton  Mather's  "Magnalia,"  that  wonderful 
account  of  how  this  plantation  of  New  England 
was  made  so  considerable  in  a  space  of  time  so 
inconsiderable,  a  work  that  was  a  perfect  store 
house  of  tales  of  these  strange  old  days.  These 
were  wonderful  stories  indeed !  And  they  were  all 
about  her  own  country,  too,  and  made  her  feel  that 
she  herself  trod  upon  ground  that  was  consecrated 
by  some  special  dealings  of  God's  Providence. 

Nevertheless  the  story-loving  side  of  little  Harriet 
could  never  be  convinced  that  there  were  no  more 
lively  bits  to  be  found  among  all  those  unpromising 
black  books.  She  sought  perseveringly,  and  her 
efforts  were  rewarded.  In  a  side  closet  full  of 
documents  there  was  a  weltering  ocean  of 
pamphlets  in  which  she  dug  and  toiled  for  hours, 
to  be  repaid  by  disinterring  a  delicious  morsel  of 
"Don  Quixote"  that  had  once  been  a  book,  but 
was  now  lying  in  forty  or  fifty  broken  scraps  amid 
Calls  and  Appeals,  Essays,  Replies  and  Rejoinders. 
The  turning  up  of  such  a  fragment,  she  thought, 
was  like  the  rising  of  an  enchanted  island  out  of 
an  ocean  of  mud.  Further  searches  in  certain 
barrels  of  old  sermons  brought  to  her  a  battered 
but  precious  copy  of  the  "Arabian  Nights."  She 
was  now  happy;  such  books  as  these  could  be  read 
and  re-read  forever  without  ever  palling. 

We  must  remember  that  there  were  in  those  days 
no  books  written  specially  for  children  and  so  ar 
ranged  as  to  be  interesting  at  each  step  of  the 

74 


.THE    BOOKS    SHE    READ 

child's  growth.  Harriet  had  to  grow  to  the  great 
books,  but  as  she  had  a  very  precocious  and  devour 
ing  mind  she  was  fully  ready  by  the  time  that 
she  discovered  the  Oriental  story-book  in  the  bottom 
of  the  barrel,  to  read  all  the  big  words  in 
Scheherazade's  long-winded,  fascinating  tales. 

It  was  Harriet  Beecher's  good  fortune  that  no 
silly  or  trashy  books  were  thrown  in  her  way,  to  the 
injury  or  ruin  of  her  mental  development.  Under 
all  these  encouraging  influences  she  grew  with 
astonishing  rapidity,  but  in  a  perfectly  simple  and 
normal  way. 

Mrs.  Stowe  herself  tells  us  in  "The  Minister's 
Wooing"  what  was  thought  to  be  the  proper  selec 
tion  for  the  personal  library  of  a  well-taught  young 
lady  of  those  times.  Upon  the  snowy  cover  of  the 
small  table  under  her  looking-glass  should  lie  "The 
Spectator,"  "Paradise  Lost,"  "Shakespeare"  and 
"Robinson  Crusoe."  Beside  them  of  course  the 
Bible  should  rest.  There  should  also  be  the  works 
of  Jonathan  Edwards.  Laid  a  little  to  one  side,  as 
perhaps  of  doubtful  reputation,  might  be  found  the 
only  novel  which  the  stricter  people  in  those  days 
allowed  for  the  reading  of  their  daughters,  that 
seven-volumed,  trailing,  tedious,  delightful  old 
bore,  "Sir  Charles  Grandison" — a  book  whose  in 
fluence  was  almost  universal  and  might  be  traced 
even  in  the  epistolary  style  of  some  grave  divines. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  certain  young  lady  of  Litch- 
field,  probably  a  devourer  of  such  books  as  this, 

75 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

who  was  once  going  in  the  stage  from  Litchfield 
to  Hartford  and  happened  to  have  Miss  Sally 
Pierce,  the  principal  of  the  Female  Academy,  for 
traveling  companion.  Miss  Pierce  recommended  to 
the  young  lady  the  purchase  of  "Wilberforce's 
View."  The  young  lady  took  this  advice,  paying 
the  sum  of  six  shillings  for  the  work.  Miss  Pierce 
also  suggested  the  "Memoirs  of  Miss  Susanna 
Anthony"  which  could  be  bought  for  three  and 
six,  and  a  book  called  "Reflections  on  Death"  which 
she  declared  to  be  very  interesting  as  well  as  in 
structive.  We  are  not  told  that  the  young  lady 
did  not  slip  in  also  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  which 
was  just  then  becoming  a  fashionable  book  in  the 
hill  towns  of  Connecticut,  or  even  perhaps  volume 
one  of  that  great  romance,  "Sir  Charles  Grandison." 

Harriet  no  doubt  had  books  of  the  same  solemn 
and  metaphysical  kind  recommended  to  her  by  her 
beloved  teacher,  but  decidedly  not  the  seven-volume 
novel.  We  do  not  know  that  Harriet  had  a  little 
room  to  herself  and  a  small  library  of  her  own.  But 
she  must  have  read  that  classic  novel  some  time, 
or  how  could  she  have  pronounced  it  a  bore?  Be 
sides  this,  we  know  that  once  when  she  was  almost 
an  old  lady  she  stood  on  her  feet  with  bonnet  on 
and  read  a  chapter  of  "Sir  Charles"  through  to  the 
end,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  she  was  keeping  a 
dinner  party  waiting  for  her  to  come. 

Fortunately  for  Harriet  with  her  strong  literary 
instincts,  the  tastes  of  her  mother  were  more  catholic 


THE    BOOKS    SHE    READ 

than  were  those  of  her  theological  father;  she  in 
cluded  philosophical,  scientific  and  poetic  books 
among  her  favorites.  In  one  of  her  letters  to  her 
sister-in-law  she  said:  "May  has,  I  suppose,  told 
you  of  the  discovery  that  the  fixed  alkalies  are 
metallic  oxyds.  I  first  saw  the  notice  in  the 
Christian  Observer  and  have  since  seen  it  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review/'  Her  eager  mind  led  her  to 
add:  "I  think  this  is  all  the  knowledge  I  have 
obtained  in  the  whole  circle  of  the  arts  and  sciences 
of  late;  if  you  have  been  more  fortunate,  pray  let 
me  have  the  benefit." 

To  Mrs.  Beecher  a  new  interesting  book  was  an 
event,  heard  of  across  the  ocean,  watched  for  as 
one  watches  for  the  rising  of  a  new  planet;  and 
while  the  English  packet  was  slowly  laboring  over, 
bearing  it  to  our  shores,  expectation  in  the  family 
was  rising.  When  the  book  was  to  be  found  in 
the  city  book  stores  an  early  copy  generally  found 
its  way  to  the  family  circle  in  Litchfield.  Miss 
Edgeworth's  "Frank"  came,  and  was  read  aloud 
to  their  great  edification.  Many  a  box  of  books 
appeared  through  the  thoughtfulness  of  Uncle 
Samuel,  who  always  selected  the  latest  and  most 
interesting  things.  "The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel" 
and  "Marmion"  made  an  epoch  by  their  arrival; 
they  were  read  in  the  home  with  wild  enthusiasm, 
and  afterwards  spouted  in  glorious  hours  by  the 
children.  Can  we  take  ourselves  back  to  the  fresh 
ness  of  a  time  when  a  letter  from  the  mountains  to 

77 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

a  New  Haven  sister  could  contain  this  message: 
"John  brought  'The  Vision  of  Roderick/  a  poem 
by  Scott  Do  tell  me  about  Scott."  There  was  an 
eager,  un jaded  appetite  in  that  mountain  town  that 
would  give  a  rapturous  welcome  to  such  a  poem  as 
the  "Lady  of  the  Lake,"  such  a  novel  as  "Ivanhoe." 
These  were  the  days  when  the  heart  of  the  world 
was  being  periodically  agitated  by  the  appearance 
of  a  new  Waver  ley  novel;  it  was  the  time,  too,  of 
Moore,  Southey,  Wordsworth,  and,  above  all,  of 
Byron. 

Ah,  Byron !  It  was  the  day  of  Byron,  too.  Over 
the  sea  came  the  rolling  rhythms,  the  bravado  and 
the  mockery  of  the  wonderful  living  poet.  Over 
the  sea  came,  too,  the  Byronic  melancholy  and  the 
loose,  waving  Byronic  necktie.  The  sensitive  young 
attendants  of  the  Law  School  suffered  from  the 
one  and  wore  the  other.  We  know  that  they  suf 
fered  from  the  Byronic  melancholy,  for  Dr. 
Beecher  preached  against  it;  and  this  time  he  did, 
as  he  used  to  say,  take  hold  without  mittens.  He 
preached  cut  and  thrust,  hip  and  thigh,  and  did 
not  ease  off.  His  sermon  was  closed  with  an 
eloquent  lamentation  over  the  wasted  life  and  mis 
used  powers  of  the  great  poet. 

Meantime  Harriet,  then  eleven  years  old,  had 
found  a  stray  volume  of  Byron's  "Corsair."  Her 
aunt  had  given  it  to  her  one  afternoon  to  appease 
her  craving  for  something  to  read.  This  poem 
astonished  and  electrified  her.  She  kept  calling  to 

78 


,  THE    BOOKS    SHE    READ      ' 

her  aunt  to  hear  the  wonderful  things  she  found 
in  it  and  to  ask  what  they  meant.  "Aunt  Esther, 
what  does  this  mean:  'One  I  never  loved  enough 
to  hate'?"  "Oh,  child,  it's  one  of  Byron's  strong 
expressions/'  said  her  aunt.  That  day  Harriet  went 
home  full  of  dreaming  about  Byron,  and  after  that 
she  listened  to  everything  that  was  said  about  him 
at  the  table.  She  heard  her  father  tell  about  hi? 
separation  from  his  wife,  and  one  day  he  said, 
"My  dear,  Byron  is  dead — gone!"  Then  after  a 
minute  he  added,  "Oh,  I  am  sorry  that  Byron  is 
dead.  I  did  hope  he  would  live  to  do  something 
for  Christ.  What  a  harp  he  might  have  swept !" 
That  afternoon  Harriet  took  her  basket  and  went 
tip  to  the  strawberry  field  on  Chestnut  Hill.  But 
she  was  too  dispirited  to  do  anything.  She  lay  in 
the  daisies  and  looked  up  into  the  blue  sky  and 
thought  of  the  great  eternity  into  which  Byron  had 
entered,  and  wondered  how  it  might  be  with  his 
soul. 

It  is  interesting  to  recall  that  Harriet's  great 
English  contemporary,  Elizabeth  Barrett  Brown 
ing,  who  afterward  became  the  greatest  of  women 
poets  and  was  one  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  dear  friends, 
at  almost  the  same  time  was  also  mourning  in  a 
beautiful  poem  that  "  'midst  the  shriekings  of  the 
tossing  wind,"  "the  dark  blue  depths"  he  sang  of 
were  then  bearing  all  that  remained  of  Byron  to 
his  native  shore. 

Harriet  would  probably  know  by  instinct  that 

79 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

no  novel  would  be  approved  by  her  father  for  the 
children.  So  we  can  imagine  her  joy  when  one 
day  he  brought  a  novel  of  Scott's  to  her  brother 
George,  saying  that,  though  he  generally  disap 
proved  of  such  books  as  trash,  yet  in  these  he 
could  see  that  there  were  real  genius  and  real  cul 
ture  and  therefore  he  would  remove  his  ban  upon 
them. 

In  that  summer  Harriet  and  her  brother  read 
"Ivanhoe"  through  seven  times,  and  they  were 
both  able  to  recite  many  scenes  verbatim  from  be 
ginning  to  end.  They  dramatized  it  all.  They 
named  the  rocks  and  glens  and  rivers  about  Litch- 
field  by  names  borrowed  from  "The  Lady  of  the 
Lake";  they  clambered  among  the  rocks  of  Ben- 
venue  and  sailed  on  the  bosom  of  the  Loch  Ka 
trine,  using  Chestnut  Hill  and  the  Great  and  Little 
Pond  for  the  purpose.  In  the  reading  circles 
among  the  law  students  and  among  the  young 
ladies  they  discussed  Scott's  treatment  side  by  side 
with  that  of  Shakespeare,  and  compared  the  poetry 
of  Scott  and  Byron. 

In  the  family  all  this  great  new  poetry  was  read 
aloud — which  is  indeed  the  best  and  only  way  to 
get  the  good  of  poetry.  And  though  Harriet's 
father  was  necessarily  most  interested  in  theolog 
ical  argument  and  discussion,  he,  too,  was  fond  of 
poetry  and  read  it  with  wonderful  expression. 
Harriet  thought  it  the  greatest  possible  treat  to 
hear  him  read  passages  from  that  world-poem, 

80 


THE    BOOKS    SHE    READ 

"Paradise  Lost."  Especially  was  she  moved  when 
he  read  the  account  of  Satan's  marshaling  of  his 
forces  of  fallen  angels.  The  courage  and  fortitude 
of  Milton's  Satan  enlisted  her  in  his  favor,  and 
when  her  father  came  to  the  passage  beginning 

Millions  of  spirits  for  his  fault  amerced 
Of  Heaven, 

and  ending  with  the  lines, 

Attention  held  them  mute. 

Thrice  he  essay'd,  and  thrice,  in  spite  of  scorn, 
Tears,  such  as  angels  weep,  burst  forth, 

her  father  himself  burst  into  tears  and  the  reading 
was  ended  for  that  day.  Perhaps  that  poem  was  a 
favorite  with  Dr.  Beecher  because  Milton's  con 
fessed  object  in  writing  had  been  to  "justify  the 
ways  of  God  to  man,"  and  this  was  a  theme  that 
would  appeal  strongly  to  the  great  preacher. 

Of  course,  if  one  were  to  speak  of  the  books  that 
were  read  by  the  future  author  of  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  one  would  have  to  name  first  and  foremost 
the  one  that  was  the  daily  and  almost  hourly  study 
and  reading  and  talk  of  all  members  of  the  Beecher 
home,  the  Bible.  What  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 
thought  of  that  book  is  written  at  large  in  all  her 
works.  Especially  in  the  novel,  "My  Wife  and  I," 
she  takes  occasion  to  speak  of  what  she  thinks  it 
means  to  a  young  man  to  have  a  thorough  knowl- 

81 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

edge  in  the  mind  and  the  heart  of  that  world-em 
bracing  book.  It  may  be  said  also  that  her  own 
books  express  in  their  content  the  spirit  of  the  Bible. 
When  later  in  life  Mrs.  Stowe  traveled  in  the 
mountains  of  Switzerland,  she  said  that  she  rejoiced 
every  hour  while  among  those  scenes  in  her  famil 
iarity  with  the  language  of  the  Bible,  for  there  alone 
could  she  find  vocabulary  and  images  to  express  her 
feelings  of  wonder  and  awe! 


CHAPTER  VI 
DRAMATIC  VENTURES 

WE  are  accustomed  to  think  of  the  early  New 
England  life  as  offering  few  expressions 

of  artistic  beauty,  and  there  is  much  truth 
in  this  view,  for  the  thoughts  of  our  forefathers 
were  directed  chiefly  toward  theology.  But  we 
must  never  forget  that  those  first  adventurers  came 
from  England  during  the  greatest  age  of  artistic 
expression  that  England  ever  had,  the  time  of  Sid 
ney  and  Spenser  and  Shakespeare.  When  the  New 
Englanders  had  become  settled  in  their  new  home, 
had  become  somewhat  unified,  that  "fervid  activity 
of  an  intense,  newly-kindled,  peculiar  and  indi 
vidual  life"  resulted  in  all  sorts  of  out-croppings 
of  that  desire  for  beauty  invincible  in  the  human 
soul.  We  should  be  surprised  to  see  how  general 
were  attempts  in  dramatic  form.  In  all  the  schools, 
in  the  homes,  in  the  societies  and  lyceums  every 
where,  original  dialogues  and  plays  were  the  order ; 
and  the  Sunday  school,  when  invented,  threw  a 
generous  mantle  of  charity  over  various  colloquies, 

7  83 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

symbolisms,  moralities,  and  other  kinds  of  dramatic 
presentation. 

In  Miss  Pierce's  school  there  were  many  exer 
cises  of  this  character.  Miss  Pierce  herself  was 
devoted,  like  her  nephew,  to  the  English  classics; 
she  was  a  good  reader,  given  to  quoting  long  pas 
sages  of  poetry  and  making  her  pupils  do  likewise. 
To  the  compositions  for  gala  days,  declamations, 
colloquies  and  dramatic  sketches  were  added.  Then 

My  name  is  Norval;  on  the  Grampian  hills 
My  father  fed  his  flocks,  etc., 

was  invariably  spouted.  "The  Will,  or  The  Power 
of  Medicine,"  is  the  subject  of  one  play  on  record; 
also  a  colloquy  on  "Improvements  in  Education." 
A  play  called  "The  Country  Boy"  was  given,  in 
which  the  characters  were  John  Hickory  and  Hot 
spur.  In  one  called  "The  Curfew,"  the  hero  is  a 
robber  disguised  as  a  minstrel.  "The  Combat/' 
from  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  was  another  favorite. 
Miss  Pierce  herself  wrote  some  very  respectable 
dramas  which  the  pupils  presented  in  the  exhibitions 
at  the  close  of  school.  On  these  occasions  a  stage 
was  erected,  scenery  was  painted  and  hung  in  true 
theatrical  style,  while  all  the  wardrobes  of  the  com 
munity  were  ransacked  for  stage  dresses.  When  the 
principal's  favorite,  "Jephtha's  Daughter,"  was 
given,  the  Biblical  hero,  adorned  with  a  helmet  of 
gilt  paper,  surmounted  by  waving  ostrich  plumes, 
strode  grandly  in,  declaiming, 


DRAMATIC   VENTURES 

"On  Jordan's  banks  proud  Ammon's  banners  wave." 

There  was  a  procession  of  Judsean  maidens,  bear 
ing  the  body  of  Jephthas  daughter  on  a  bier  after 
the  sacrifice,  and  there  was  also  a  procession  of  sym 
pathizing  youths.  For  this  part  of  the  program 
the  young  students  from  the  Law  School  came  in 
very  handy;  and,  judging  by  the  diary  of  one  of 
them  which  has  been  lately  exhumed  and  published,1 
the  young  gentlemen  of  a  hundred  years  ago  were 
not  so  different  from  those  of  to-day. 

If  one  desired  to  know  the  type  of  a  young  man 
to  be  found  in  the  town  of  Litchfield  during  the 
time  that  Harriet  Beecher  and  her  two  sisters,  Cath 
erine  and  Mary,  were  a  part  of  the  social  life  there, 
one  may  have  recourse  to  this  published  journal. 
George  Younglove  Cutler  is  the  name  of  the  writer, 
and,  judging  by  the  fascinating  pages  he  indited, 
the  name  was  not  wholly  inappropriate.  He  had  a 
vivid  way  of  writing,  as  if  he  were  directly  address 
ing  the  person  to  whom  he  was  speaking,  and  he 
writes  in  his  vehemence  with  a  sublime  disregard  of 
punctuation.  For  instance,  he  says :  "Miss  M.,  you 
were  becomingly  dressed  last  night  because  there 
was  less  fix  about  you  than  common.  I  like  rich 
ness  of  dress  but  hate  ribbons  &  bows  &  knots  & 
ruffles  &  rigmaroles  generally  speaking  I  dislike 
ornaments  of  any  kind.  To  see  ladies  loaded  with 

1  By  Miss  E.  N.  Vanderpoel,  in  her  charming  book,  "Chron 
icles  of  a  Pioneer  School." 

85 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

as  many  kickshaws  as  are  put  on  now-a-days  looks 
more  like  burlesque  than  reality !"  Again  he  harps 
on  the  same  string  when  he  says :  "It  is  a  very 
pretty  thing,  no  doubt,  to  see  a  young  lady  dressed 
with  Parisian  flowers  &  Parisian  gauzes  &  an  In 
dian  fan  &  the  whole  &c  of  fashionable  array.  But 
I  question  after  all,  the  style  in  which  a  young  man 
of  any  understanding  sees  a  young  lady  with  most 
danger  to  his  peace."  Extremely  critical  as  he  is 
of  the  Litchfield  young  ladies,  Mr.  Younglove  him 
self  betrays  a  touch  of  vanity.  There  is  a  great  deal 
of  talk  in  his  diary  about  his  "adonizationizing"  of 
himself  in  his  toilet — by  which  manufactured  word 
he  means  "frushing  up,"  "furbishing,"  "making 
fix,"  or  "prigging."  Once  he  takes  pains  to  say :  lTIt 
being  Sunday,  I  wore  pumps  and  white  stockings  to 
meeting."  Again  he  records  the  sad  news :  "Tore 
my  Angola  pantaloons !"  On  one  date  he  sets  it 
down  with  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm:  "To  begin 
this  great  day  was  powdered.  Huzza !" 

We  may  not  know  by  what  logic  we  reach  the 
conclusion,  but  I  believe  all  will  agree  that  the  sort 
of  young  man  self -depicted  in  this  long-buried,  old 
diary  could  never  have  been  averse  to  coming  on  the 
stage  as  a  robber  in  the  disguise  of  a  minstrel,  or 
as  a  proud  Jephtha  in  a  gilt  paper  helmet  declaiming 
in  stentorian  voice, 

"On  Jordan's  banks  proud  Ammon's  banners  wave;" 
86 


DRAMATIC   VENTURES 

and  if  George  Younglove  ever  became  in  any  way 
unruly,  there  was  always  the  overwhelming  Miss 
Pierce,  more  powerful  than  any  warrior,  to  bring 
order  out  of  chaos.  The  discipline  that  she  gave  to 
one  youth  of  George's  class  is  recorded.  He  gazed 
for  something  more  than  a  minute  at  one  of  the 
sacred  members  of  her  household,  and  the  worst 
happened!  He  was  exiled.  Surely  not  very  fre 
quently  did  anything  take  place  to  bring  so  dire  a 
fate  upon  a  Litchfield  youth ! 

But  to  come  back  to  the  play  by  Miss  Pierce  and 
the  actors  that  took  part  in  it.  They  certainly  did 
all  the  honor  they  could  to  the  dramatist.  The  cos 
tumes  were  copied  out  of  the  "Bible  Dictionary" — 
with  the  single  exception,  perhaps,  of  the  nose-jew 
els — and  the  stabbing  to  the  heart  and  the  chorus  of 
wailing  maidens  were  done  to  the  life.  In  this  play 
the  part  of  Bethulah,  wife  of  Jephtha,  was  taken  by 
"C.  Beecher,"  as  the  list  of  actors  shows,  and  she  is 
on  the  stage  most  of  the  time.  Catherine  also  took 
a  prominent  place  in  the  dramatic  representation  of 
the  beautiful  story  of  Ruth.  The  story  of  Esther 
the  Queen  was  also  enacted.  Her  majesty  had  a 
dress  of  old  flowered  brocade  from  somebody's  wed 
ding  chest;  Mordecai  and  Ahashuerus  were  appro 
priately  enrobed,  and  the  part  of  Haman — who  was 
to  be  hanged — was  taken  by  the  dog.  At  least  this 
is  the  way  Mrs.  Stowe  tells  about  it,  long  afterward, 
in  "Oldtown  Folks,"  but  perhaps  by  that  time  she 
may  have  forgotten  some  of  the  particulars  as  to 

87 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

the  death  of  Haman.  For  the  plots  of  their  plays, 
the  young  ladies  in  Miss  Pierce's  Seminary  an 
alyzed  the  stories  in  "Plutarch's  Lives,"  and  found 
treasures  there  for  dramatic  representation  from 
Romulus  and  Remus  down  to  Julius  Caesar.  His 
tory  in  their  own  country  came  in  for  a  share  of 
attention.  Bunker  Hill  was  done  with  a  couple  of 
old  guns  to  give  effect  to  the  scene  and  with  the 
rolling  of  a  cannon  ball  across  the  floor  behind  the 
curtains  to  make  the  cannonades  of  battle.  Harriet, 
like  Tina,  a  past  master  in  getting  up  a  cave  of  ban 
ditti,  borrowed  suggestions  from  the  "Mysteries  of 
Udolpho,"  and  delighted  one  audience  with  a  play 
let  of  the  purest  romance. 

Those  dramatic  representations  seem  to  have 
awakened  no  unfavorable  comment  in  the  Beecher 
family  so  long  as  they  were  carried  on  under  the 
supervision  of  the  Academy.  But  on  an  unlucky 
day  Harriet's  brilliant  sister  Catherine  lighted  upon 
a  thrilling  story  in  Miss  Edgeworth's  "Moral 
Tales,"  called  "The  Unknown  Friend,"  which  tells 
how  an  attractive  sixteen-year-old  young  lady  was 
cured  of  a  foolish  sentimentality.  In  this  story 
Angelina,  the  heroine,  reads  a  book  written  by  an 
unknown  lady  by  the  name  of  Araminta.  This  book 
speaks  extravagantly,  and  as  it  seems  to  Angelina 
alluringly,  of  the  charms  of  friendship,  and  on  the 
theory  that  one  who  wrote  so  feelingly  of  the  beau 
tiful  and  romantic  must  be  herself  the  embodiment 
of  those  traits,  Angelina  sets  out  to  find  this  para- 

88 


DRAMATIC    VENTURES 

gon,  believing  that  in  her  she  will  gain  such  a  friend 
as  she  has  dreamed  of.  After  wandering  futilely 
for  a  time,  she  reaches  a  hut  in  the  Welch  moun 
tains,  where  the  writer  of  the  sentimental  book  has 
taken  refuge.  She  finds  in  Araminta  a  disheveled, 
unlovely,  forbidding  person.  Every  sense  of  taste 
and  propriety  is  shocked,  and  they  do  not  get  on 
well  together  at  all.  The  story  shows  Angelina's 
complete  disillusionment  and  the  sorrows  that  will 
come  to  one  who  disregards  the  practical  side  of 
life.  The  incidents  in  this  tale  of  Miss  Edgeworth's 
are  ludicrous  and  the  story  is  not  a  bit  tame.  It 
might  afford  amusement  even  to-day. 

The  clever  Catherine  conceived  the  idea  of  mak 
ing  it  into  a  play  and  giving  a  happy  surprise  to 
the  whole  family  by  setting  up  the  little  drama  in 
the  house  itself.  There  were  characters  enough  for 
every  one  of  the  Beecher  children  to  have  one  to 
himself — and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal!  There 
was  also  variety.  The  dialects  used  included  Welsh, 
Scotch,  and  broad  Irish.  The  Lady  Diana  Chilling- 
worth  and  her  sister,  the  Lady  Frances  Somerset, 
trailed  about  in  finery  extracted  from  mother's  band 
boxes  and  chests.  A  palace,  a  mountain  top,  a 
shop,  afforded  changes  of  scene  that  were  easily 
designated  in  true  Elizabethan  fashion  by  the  use 
of  a  parlor  table,  or  a  kitchen  chair,  or  a  set  of 
shelves ;  and  costumes  were  delightfully  relied  upon 
to  give  aid  to  the  imagination.  Rehearsals  were 
carried  on  in  the  strictest  secrecy  for  some  weeks. 

89 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

The  appointed  evening  came.  Father  and  mother 
wondered  why  a  fire  was  built  in  the  large  parlor 
or  why  so  many  neighbors  and  students  happened 
to  come  in  at  about  the  same  moment;  but  before 
any  questions  could  be  asked,  the  door  to  the  dining 
room  was  suddenly  thrown  open  and  a  mysterious 
drapery  was  seen  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room. 
The  curtain  rose  and  forthwith  the  actors  appeared 
and  completed  the  whole  drama  amid  thunders  of 
applause — at  least  so  runs  the  account  by  an  eye 
witness.  The  next  day,  however,  Catherine  was 
told  with  some  severity  that  while  it  was  very  good, 
they  must  not  do  so  any  more ! 

When  Catherine  Beecher,  the  tragedy  queen  and 
star  actress  in  all  Miss  Pierce's  plays,  went  away 
to  Hartford,  she  left  a  great  vacancy  in  the  society 
of  Litchfield ;  and  when  Harriet,  author  of  the  essay 
that  had  astonished  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  departed, 
she  carried  with  her  a  secluded  little  ambition  of 
which  she  spoke  to  no  one.  For  in  those  days  Har 
riet  was  full  of  poetry  and  shyly  entertained  a  dream 
that  she  herself  might  join  the  glorious  band  of  im 
mortal  poets.  She  was  soon  trying  her  hand  at 
blank  verse,  and  she  planned  out  a  drama  that 
should  be  written  in  that  form. 

When  at  the  age  of  about  thirteen  she  was  filled 
with  her  first  enthusiasm  for  classic  lore,  the  sub 
ject  of  "Cleon"  attracted  her  dramatic  instinct. 
Cleon  was  an  historical  person  whose  character  and 
problem  were,  not  so  very  long  after  Harriet's  at- 

90 


DRAMATIC   VENTURES 

tempt,  made  the  basis  of  a  noble  poem  by  Robert 
Browning. 

The  story  of  Cleon  is  this :  He  was  a  Greek,  liv 
ing  at  the  court  of  Nero.  This  fixes  the  date  for  us 
as  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era.  He  was  a 
follower  of  the  Greek  gods,  but  he  heard  about 
Christ  and  after  much  searching  and  doubting  he  at 
last  came  to  a  true  knowledge  of  Christianity.  This 
transformation  is  the  theme  of  Harriet's  play. 

The  scene  opens  in  a  street  in  Rome.  Some 
Roman  patricians,  dressed  in  their  flowing  togas, 
come  upon  the  stage  and  discuss  the  lavish  enter 
tainment  that  this  wealthy  Greek,  Clean,  has  been 
giving. 

We  shall  live  twice  as  fast  while  he  is  here, 
says  one  of  them. 

By  Bacchus,  then  we  shall  be  lived  to  death; 
I'm  almost  out  of  breath  with  living  now, 

declares  the  other.  The  first  speaker  continues  the 
conversation,  describing  Cleon  as  one  who  has  a 
thirst  for  pleasure  so  ravenous  that  he  works  with 
hand  and  foot  and  soul,  both  night  and  day,  to  gain 
diversion,  and  is  so  lavish  of  money  that  the  Em 
peror  Nero  with  all  his  waste  seems  parsimonious 
compared  to  Cleon. 

This  is  the  picture  of  Cleon  given  in  the  opening 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

scene  of  the  play.  In  the  next  scene  we  find  him 
reclining  upon  a  luxurious  couch  in  his  palatial 
apartment.  Enter  his  old  friend  and  teacher,  Diag 
oras,  who  has  come  from  Athens  to  visit  him. 
Diagoras  is  amazed  to  see  the  lavish  richness  and 
splendor  of  the  house  and  the  room.  When  Clean 
asks  him  politely  to  sit  down,  he  answers  that  he 
cannot,  for  he  does  not  see  any  seat!  Cleon  cries 
out  that  he  thinks  that  Diagoras  must  have  lost  his 
eyes,  and  points  out  that  there  is  in  the  room  a  fair 
choice  among  some  thirty  different  kinds  of  couches 
— couches  of  the  Phrygian  and  of  the  Grecian  pat 
tern,  and  many  other  kinds.  Diagoras  is  astonished 
when  told  that  these  beds  adorned  with  pearls  and 
gold  are  made  to  sit  on;  he  is,  he  says,  a  simple 
man,  used  to  plain  things,  and  begs  the  pardon  of 
Cleon  if  he  has  been  unappreciative.  Cleon  thinks 
that  behind  this  excuse  his  old  teacher  is  displeased 
with  him;  but,  as  it  is,  there  is  no  choice  between 
two  evils  :  either  Diagoras  must  rest  his  philosophic 
feet  upon  that  most  profanely  glittering  floor  which 
is  all  inlaid  with  gems,  or  he  must  rest  himself  upon 
one  of  those  rich  beds.  Cleon  perceives  that  this 
jesting  way  of  speaking  is  giving  pain  to  his  good 
master,  who  should  have  known  of  old  the  reckless 
tongue  of  Cleon.  He  assures  Diagoras  of  a  hearty 
welcome  and  begs  him  to  sit  down  that  they  may 
have  a  long  visit. 

Diagoras  thereupon  is  made  to  recline  upon  one 
of  the  couches.     He  proceeds  to  tell  the  cause  of 

92 


DRAMATIC   VENTURES 

his  disappointment  in  his  pupil.  He  has  heard  that 
Cleon  is  the  common  talk  of  the  city  on  account  of 
his  evil  ways,  his  rioting  and  his  luxuriousness.  He 
has  heard  that  his  former  pupil  has  become  the  com 
panion  of  the  very  dross  and  dregs  of  all  mankind. 
Cleon  interposes,  and  asks  if  Diagoras  means  by  the 
"dross  and  dregs"  the  Emperor  Nero.  Diagoras 
will  not  answer  directly,  but  assures  him  that  this 
is  the  tale  that  he  has  heard  about  him.  He  ex 
claims  : 

Is  this  the  Athenian  Cleon,  is  this  he 

Who  drank  philosophy  and  worshiped  virtue? 

This  he  who  triumphed  in  the  Olympian  race 

Followed  by  wondering  eyes? 

Rememberest  thou  the  glory  of  those  days? 

he  asks. 

Diagoras  succeeds  in  calling  the  soul  of  Cleon 
back  from  the  downward  path  that  it  is  following. 
At  last  Cleon  exclaims  that  it  has  been  only  a  curse 
to  him  to  have  had  so  much  wealth;  he  has  striven 
desperately  to  satisfy  himself  with  the  things  that 
satisfy  the  common  crowd,  but  he  has  not  succeeded. 

As  the  play  goes  on  Cleon  passes  through  a  spir 
itual  crisis  and  becomes  a  Christian.  Now  this,  we 
must  remember,  is  the  time  of  the  most  extreme  per 
secutions  of  the  Christians.  Cleon  is  brought  to  the 
supreme  test  that  the  followers  of  Christ  were  sub 
jected  to  under  the  persecuting  monarch  Nero.  An 
on-looker  describes  the  scene,  and  tells  us  that  Cleon 

93 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

bore  the  ordeal  with  courage;  he  was  steady  and 
undismayed;  he  declared  his  fixed  purpose,  saying 
that  he  was  willing  to  abide  by  whatever  should 
come  to  him.  The  one  who  tells  the  story  says  that 
Cleon  would  have  fared  better  if  he  had  given  a 
fiery  answer  to  the  Emperor,  for  his  very  composure 
made  Nero  mad  and  he  stamped  his  foot  as  a  signal 
to  the  slaves  to  bring  in  the  torture. 

In  the  next  scene  Cleon  is  led  in  by  two  soldiers. 
Though  he  is  weak  and  faint  from  the  torture  he 
has  endured,  he  insists  upon  standing  on  his  feet. 
Harriet  Beecher  follows  the  historical  tradition  of 
Nero's  character,  in  making  him  cause  his  friend 
Cleon  to  suffer  these  frightful  agonies.  The  un 
speakable  Emperor  now  apologizes  for  the  severity 
of  the  torture,  and  assures  Cleon  that  he  has  only 
loving  intentions  toward  him.  He  gives  him  per 
mission  to  keep  his  religion  if  he  will  but  consent 
to  worship — privately !  "Suppose  you  do  call  your 
self  a  Christian,"  he  says,  "why  need  you  let  every 
body  know  it  ?  Only  be  quiet  about  it  and  I  will  not 
interfere;  worship  in  any  way  you  will,  only  let  it 
be — out  of  my  sight."  Cleon  then  asks  the  Emperor 
what  he  shall  do  if  he  is  questioned  about  his  faith. 
The  Emperor  suggests  that  he  should  under  those 
circumstances  make  up  some  "smooth,  decoying 
phrase"  that  would  turn  off  the  inquiry.  Cleon  re 
ceives  this  proposal  with  the  shock  that  shows  the 
inner  truth  of  his  nature.  He  exclaims : 

94 


DRAMATIC    VENTURES 

My  lord,  I  scarce  may  trust  myself  to  answer, 
Since  I  have  heard  such  degradation  named. 
In  place  of  open  bold  apostasy 
Thou  dost  propose  an  hourly,  daily  lie. 

Cleon's  whole  nature  revolts  against  anything  so 
base.  He  declares  that  it  is  his  settled  purpose  while 
he  lives  to  leave  nothing  undone  or  untried  to  win 
everybody  to  the  reverence  for  Christ  that  he  has 
learned  to  enjoy  within  himself.  Thus  he  defies  the 
Emperor  and  all  the  world. 

This  drama  which  has  many  elements  of  nobility 
in  it  and  which  shows  a  great  deal  of  skill,  filled 
Harriet's  waking  thoughts  and  her  dreams  at  night, 
and  for  a  long  time  she  was  joyously  filling  blank 
book  after  blank  book  with  the  flowing  lines.  But 
the  play  was  never  finished.  Her  sister  Catherine 
pounced  down  upon  her  one  day  and  told  her  that 
she  should  not  waste  any  more  time  writing  poetry, 
but  that  she  should  discipline  her  mind  by  the  study 
of  Butler's  "Analogy."  So  the  obedient  Harriet 
laid  aside  her  loved  play  and  began  to  write  out 
abstracts  of  the  "Analogy."  Thus  her  dramatic 
aspirations  were  for  the  time  arrested.  Catherine 
snuffed  out  the  little  light  of  her  sister's  budding 
poetic  genius;  or,  rather,  perhaps  we  should  say 
that  she  turned  those  powers  in  another  direction; 
she  saved  and  stored  that  intellectual  energy  for  a 
purpose  of  which  neither  of  them  had  at  that  time 
the  remotest  dream. 


CHAPTER  VII 
STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

AFTER  the  death  of  Mrs.  Beecher  in  1816  the 
care  of  the  younger  ones  fell  to  a  large  ex 
tent  upon  the  elder  daughter,  Harriet's  ca 
pable  and  energetic  sister  Catherine,  who  was  some 
twelve  years  older  than  she.  So  the  traditions  of  the 
mother  Roxana  were  carried  on  in  the  household 
until  a  second  mother,  another  highly  cultivated 
lady,  came  to  take  the  headship  of  the  home. 

It  is  natural  that  this  strong  and  brilliant  Cather 
ine  should  have  a  great  influence  upon  the  sensitive 
younger  sister,  and  that  the  various  steps  in  Cather 
ine's  career  and  in  her  soul-history  should  be  fol 
lowed  by  Harriet  with  interest  and  sympathy  almost 
as  great  as  if  she  had  been  a  responsible  part  in  the 
story.  And  if  disturbing  experiences  came  to  Cath 
erine,  a  reflected  tumult  would  naturally  pass 
through  the  life  of  Harriet.  This  is  exactly  what 
did  happen.  Harriet's  days  were  shaded  by  the 
sorrows  of  Catherine  through  all  the  early  years  of 
her  young  womanhood. 

Catherine  Beecher  was  destined  to  be  a  remark- 


STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

able  woman,  author  of  many  books,  a  trainer  of 
teachers  and  a  founder  of  educational  institutions. 
The  range  of  her  thought  seems  to  have  been  almost 
unlimited.  She  wrote  on  education,  on  slavery,  on 
the  evils  suffered  by  American  women  and  on  the 
duties  of  American  women  to  their  country.  She 
wrote  on  all  subjects  connected  with  the  home.  In 
one  book  only  she  treats  of  the  following  topics: 
The  dignity  and  importance  of  woman's  work,  the 
Christian  family,  scientific  domestic  ventilation, 
stoves,  furnaces  and  chimneys,  home  decoration, 
health,  exercise,  food,  cookery,  early  rising,  domes 
tic  manners,  system  and  order,  charity  and  economy, 
care  of  infants,  management  of  children,  care  of 
the  aged,  of  servants,  of  the  sick,  accidents  and  an 
tidotes,  fires  and  lights,  care  of  rooms,  of  yards 
and  gardens,  cultivation  of  plants,  and  care  of  do 
mestic  animals — and  of  all  these  things  she  writes 
with  the  object  of  dignifying  domestic  employment 
and  increasing  the  wages  paid  for  it.  As  if  this 
were  not  enough  to  fill  a  single  volume,  she  adds 
twenty-five  more  chapters  on  recipes  of  all  kinds, 
meats  and  breads,  preserving  fruits,  setting  table, 
washing,  ironing  and  cleaning ;  and  finally  she  adds 
a  chapter  of  "miscellaneous  advice." 

In  other  books  she  takes  still  higher  flights.  Her 
"Elements  of  Mental  and  Moral  Philosophy  Found 
ed  on  Experience,  Reason,  and  the  Bible,"  pub 
lished  at  Hartford  in  1831,  and  her  "Letters  on 
Difficulties  of  Religion,"  and  her  "Appeal  to  the 

97 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

People  as  the  Authorized  Interpreters  of  the  Bible,'* 
are  examples  of  her  excursions  into  philosophical 
and  theological  realms.  In  the  large  collection  of 
Beecher  writings  that  would  be  ours  if  we  should 
gather  all  the  writings  of  the  family  into  one  li 
brary,  an  ample  shelf  would  have  to  be  given  to  this 
talented  favorite  daughter  of  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher. 

A  curious  story  is  told  in  connection  with  one  of 
Catherine  Beecher's  philosophical  essays.  In  1840 
she  wrote  an  article  called  "Free  Agency,"  which 
was  published  in  the  Biblical  Repository.  This  is 
a  theological  term,  meaning  "free  will,"  and  Cath 
erine's  object  was  to  answer  the  arguments  on  the 
subject  of  the  human  will  that  had  been  given  out 
by  Jonathan  Edwards,  one  of  the  most  profound 
scholars  of  New  England.  The  story  is  that  a  New 
England  preacher  in  talking  with  a  professor  of 
theology  in  Germany  once  mentioned  this  essay  of 
Miss  Beecher's,  calling  it  the  ablest  refutation  of 
Edwards  that  had  yet  been  written.  "Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  have  in  your  country  a  woman  who 
can  write  the  ablest  refutation  of  Edwards  on  the 
will?"  exclaimed  the  German  professor.  'Then 
may  God  forgive  Christopher  Columbus  for  discov 
ering  America!"  This  story  had  a  good  point  in 
its  day.  But  now  that  women  have  proved  by  their 
achievements  in  all  branches  of  science  and  in  liter 
ature  and  the  arts  that  they  needed  only  education 
and  opportunity  to  attain  distinction,  it  is  only 


STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

amusing  that  such  a  remark  could  ever  have  been 
made — even  in  Germany. 

When  Harriet  was  nine  years  old — about  the 
time  when  she  was  writing  essays  on  the  "Differ 
ence  Between  the  Natural  and  Moral  Sublime" — 
her  sister  Catherine  was  away  at  Boston  studying 
music  and  drawing,  and  preparing  herself  in  gen 
eral  to  be  a  teacher.  Because  of  her  remarkable 
powers  of  mind,  she  made  such  progress  that  in  a 
short  time  she  was  able  to  take  a  position  as  teacher 
in  a  young  ladies'  school  in  New  London,  Con 
necticut. 

While  in  this  place  she  met  a  young  man  of  bril 
liant  prospects  and  of  great  personal  charm,  a  pro 
fessor  at  Yale  College.  They  became  engaged  and 
were  most  happy;  but  their  joy  was  short-lived. 
Professor  Fisher,  commissioned  to  go  to  Europe  to 
buy  books  for  his  department,  set  sail  in  the  ship 
Albion,  which  encountered  a  severe  storm  and  was 
dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  of  the  Irish  coast. 

Catherine  faced  her  grief  bravely  as  her  lover 
had  faced  death  bravely.  But  added  to  her  natural 
grief  for  the  loss  of  her  lover  was  a  tormenting  fear 
for  the  welfare  of  his  soul,  for  she  feared  lest  the 
spiritual  conditions  that  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
regard  as  essential  had  not  been  met  by  her  lover. 
Her  disturbance  was  not  quieted  when  she  went  to 
live  for  some  years  with  the  parents  of  her  lost  lover 
and  while  there  listened  to  one  of  the  strictest  of 
the  early  theologians.  Almost  crushed  in  her  grief, 
8  99 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

her  strong  original  mind  nevertheless  grappled  with 
the  problems  of  death  and  the  after-life.  She  used 
her  great  power  in  metaphysical  analysis  in  end 
less  discussion,  exchanging  many  long  letters  with 
her  father,  whose  loving  sympathy  was  a  tower  of 
strength  to  her  in  this  crisis.  After  a  long  period  of 
darkness  and  struggle,  Catherine  took  the  wisest 
course  that  the  profoundest  philosophy  could  sug 
gest:  she  determined  to  find  happiness  in  living  to 
do  good.  This  thought  she  clung  to  and  in  it  she 
found  comfort. 

She  looked  about  her  to  see  what  use  she  could 
make  of  her  life.  Writing  to  her  father,  she  said 
that  she  did  not  see  any  very  extensive  sphere  of 
usefulness  for  a  single  woman  except  in  teaching, 
and  asked  his  advice  about  starting  a  school  or 
seminary,  something  like  the  Litchfield  Female 
Academy,  perhaps  in  Hartford. 

Her  father  answered  with  characteristic  energy 
that  if  she  were  going  to  have  a  school  it  should  be 
a  good  one.  She  should  not  engage  in  it  listlessly, 
expecting  to  superintend,  and  do  a  little,  and  have 
the  weight  of  the  school  come  on  others.  He  would 
be  ashamed,  he  said,  to  have  her  keep  only  a  com 
monplace,  middling  sort  of  a  school.  Unless  she 
was  willing  to  put  her  talents  and  strength  into  it, 
it  would  be  better  not  to  begin.  He  called  the  spent 
energies  of  the  daughter  into  line  and  made  them 
march.  He  himself  went  straight  to  Hartford  to 

100 


STUDIES   AND  ( TRACHEA *  \ 

look  over  the  ground  and  see  whether  there  was  a 
good  opening  for  a  school  there. 

Catherine  felt  that  her  own  enthusiasms  would 
rise  to  the  occasion.  She  went  to  Hartford,  can 
vassed  the  ground,  gathered  a  company  of  pupils, 
and  was  eager  to  start.  She  resolutely  prepared  a 
text-book  on  chemistry,  one  on  natural  philosophy, 
and  one  on  logic.  Arithmetic  and  algebra  and  a 
part  of  geometry  she  also  thoroughly  reviewed. 
Under  such  a  character  as  this  Harriet  was  now  to 
be  trained. 

When  Harriet  entered  her  sister's  school  in  the 
fall  of  1824,  there  were  but  twenty-five  pupils. 
Later  there  were  hundreds.  At  the  beginning  the 
school  was  situated  in  an  upstairs  apartment  on 
Main  Street,  nearly  opposite  to  Christ  Church.  The 
lower  floor  was  used  for  a  harness  shop  and  the 
shopkeeper  had  set  up  a  dummy  white  horse  on 
each  side  of  the  entrance.  Harriet  thought  them 
beautiful  and  invested  them  with  the  glories  of 
Castor  and  Pollux ;  and  many  a  pupil  of  the  hun 
dreds  that  came  to  that  school  will  remember 
through  life  the  Sign  of  the  White  Horses  that 
guided  them  to  that  quiet  retreat.  In  another  year 
the  school  was  so  prosperous  that  they  put  up  a 
building  for  their  own  use;  the  stock  was  easily 
taken  and  a  fine  prospectus  of  the  full-fledged  Hart 
ford  Female  Seminary  was  sent  out. 

On  her  arrival,  Harriet  was  at  once  placed  in 
the  care  of  a  delightful  family  named  Bull,  who,  as 

101 


HARRIET  .BEECHEK   STOWE 

a  convenient  exchange,  were  sending  a  daughter  to 
the  Litchfield  Academy  to  make  her  home,  while 
there,  at  the  Beecher  homestead.  Mrs.  Bull  was  so 
good  a  housekeeper  that  even  Harriet's  orderly  step 
mother  was  satisfied.  She  was  a  motherly  woman 
and  took  Harriet  to  her  heart  at  once  in  the  place 
of  the  absent  daughter,  Harriet  was  given  a 
charming  little  hall  chamber  with  a  beautiful  out 
look  from  the  window  over  the  Connecticut  River 
valley.  We  may  believe  that  this  was  the  first  time 
in  her  life  when  she  had  a  room  all  her  own.  The 
little  single  bed  assigned  to  her  was  the  object  of 
her  special  delight,  and  she  took  daily  care  of  it  with 
a  satisfaction  mingled  with  awe;  and  though  the 
room  was  small  as  a  nun's  apartment,  it  was,  like 
that  of  one  of  Harriet's  heroines,  as  dainty  in  its 
neatness  as  the  waxen  cell  of  a  bee. 

At  the  Bulls,  as  in  the  Litchfield  home,  Harriet 
was  surrounded  with  music.  The  eldest  daughter 
had  a  fine  soprano  voice  and  was  a  leading  singer 
in  one  of  the  church  choirs.  Also  the  brothers  in 
the  family  were  endowed  with  rich  voices.  So  there 
were  quartettes  and  there  was  also  flute  playing. 

The  next  year  Harriet  and  her  elder  sisters,  to 
gether  with  two  of  the  brothers,  were  established 
as  a  family  with  their  father's  sister,  the  energetic 
and  well-informed  Aunt  Esther,  at  the  head.  This 
was  the  wonderful  aunt  who,  Harriet's  brother 
Henry  said,  would  spend  ages  in  Heaven  wonder 
ing  how  it  happened  that  she  ever  got  there,  while 

1 02 


STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

the  angels  would  always  be  wondering  why  she 
had  not  been  there  from  all  eternity ! l  Besides 
being  as  good  as  gold,  Aunt  Esther  had  a  memory 
that  was  well-nigh  infallible,  especially  in  the  field 
of  natural  history.  She  could  tell  nineteen  rat 
stories  all  in  a  string,  and  when  asked  how  she  hap 
pened  to  know  so  much  about  every  sort  of  thing, 
answered :  "Oh,  you  know  the  Bible  says  the  works 
of  the  Lord  are  great,  sought  out  of  all  them  that 
have  pleasure  therein.  Now  I  happened  to  have 
pleasure  therein,  and  so  I  sought  them  out."  It 
must  have  been  a  happy  home  that  was  gathered 
about  Aunt  Esther  at  the  Hartford  School.  Besides 
the  immediate  members  of  the  family,  several 
teachers  of  the  school  shared  the  home  and  helped 
to  give  a  rare  and  fascinating  atmosphere  to  the 
table  talk. 

The  group  of  young  ladies  that  came  as  the  first 
students  to  this  new  school  were  of  rather  unusual 
caliber  and  mental  power.  Miss  Beecher  said  some 
twenty  years  later  if  she  were  to  make  a  list  of  the 
most  gifted  minds  that  she  ever  met,  either  male  or 
female,  among  the  highest  on  the  list  would  stand 
five  maidens,  the  earliest  students  grouped  around 
her  in  that  dawning  experience  of  a  teacher's  life. 

*Any  one  that  would  like  to  know  more  about  this  Aunt 
Esther,  may  well  read  the  essay  of  Mrs.  Stowers  called  "The 
Cathedral."  It  is  found  in  her  book  entitled  "The  Chimney 
Corner."  If  Harriet  could  build  a  cathedral  to  suit  herself 
she  would  have  a  place  therein  for  "Saint"  Esther. 

103 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

All  these  influences  furnished  a  new  and  wonder 
fully  developing  sort  of  discipline  to  Harriet  Beech- 
er.  She  possessed  the  combination  of  qualities  that 
would  to-day  make  her  the  best  kind  of  college  girl. 
She  responded  at  once  to  these  new  inspirations, 
and  was  ready  for  the  joyous  and  educating  friend 
ships  that  form  one  of  the  most  valuable  assets  in 
school  and  college  life. 

Some  of  the  leading  girls  had  written  welcoming 
letters  to  her  before  she  started  from  Litchfield, 
and  she  had  of  course  sent  enthusiastic  answers  by 
the  first  post.  Among  these  new  friends  were  Cath 
erine  Ledyard  Cogswell,  daughter  of  a  physician  of 
Hartford,  and  Georgiana  May,  a  girl  from  another 
fine  family.  These  two  became  her  lifelong  friends 
and  Harriet's  affection  for  them  was  boundless. 
Catherine  Cogswell  was  one  of  the  popular  girls, 
and  her  time  was  greatly  in  demand,  but  she  valued 
the 'fine  qualities  of  Harriet  and  saw  to  it  that  her 
new  friend  should  always  come  in  for  a  share  of 
her  time.  Georgiana  was  of  a  gentle  nature,  and 
between  her  and  Harriet  there  continued  through 
life  a  communion  of  a  peculiarly  close  and  comfort 
ing  kind.  They  understood  each  other  perfectly. 

Harriet  loved  her  friends  absorbingly.  There 
mingled  with  her  friendly  feelings  nothing  of  the 
personal  vanity  that  spoils  so  many  friendships. 
But  by  reason  of  the  very  superiority  of  her  mind, 
most  of  those  she  saw  passed  her  by  without  moving 
her  deeply.  When  they  were  present,  she  enjoyed 

104 


STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

them ;  when  they  were  gone,  she  forgot  them.  But 
with  those  she  really  loved,  it  was  different.  From 
them  a  separation  meant  much.  In  time  she  learned 
to  take  refuge  in  the  thought  that  there  is  a  heaven, 
a  world  of  love;  as  she  once  said,  "Love  is, 
after  all,  the  life-blood  of  existence,  the  all  in  all  of 
mind."  This  thought,  coming  to  her  early  in  life, 
was  a  great  comfort  to  her  through  many  years. 

As  the  school  increased  in  size,  more  teachers 
were  added  to  the  faculty,  and  among  these  Harriet 
found  valuable  companionship.  The  enlarging  ef 
fect  of  such  association  cannot  be  overestimated. 
To  compel  one's  self  to  stand  the  comparison  with 
people  of  like  capacity  and  like  advantages  is  in  the 
highest  degree  stimulating.  Harriet  found  it  so. 
One  of  her  fellow  teachers,  a  young  woman  of  fine 
mind  and  of  unconquerable  energy  of  character,  be 
came  specially  inspiring  to  her.  From  early  child 
hood  this  teacher  had  been  determined  to  obtain  a 
higher  education  than  was  usual  among  the  young 
women  of  that  time.  We  must  remember  that  this 
was  before  the  day  of  colleges  for  girls,  and  that  to 
have  such  an  ambition  was  rare  and  to  pursue  it 
with  grim  resoluteness  was  rarer.  It  was  the  more 
inspiring  when  this  ambition  was  realized  only  after 
a  mighty  struggle  against  difficulties.  Harriet,  look 
ing  upon  this  example  of  resolute  endeavor,  coolly 
observed,  "Where  persons  are  determined  to  be 
anything,  they  will  be!" 

When  Harriet  arrived  at  her  sister's  school  her 

105 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

two  friends,  Catherine  Cogswell  and  Georgiana 
May,  were  already  reading  Virgil.  She  therefore — 
now  twelve  years  old — began  the  study  of  Latin 
alone,  but  before  the  first  year  was  over  she  was 
translating  Ovid  into  English  verse.  The  result  of 
her  work  was  considered  so  creditable  that  it  wras 
read  at  the  final  exhibition  of  the  school.  Soon  she 
herself  was  carrying  classes  of  young  ladies  through 
Virgil's  ^Eneid  and  Bucolics,  the  best  parts  of  Ovid, 
and  Cicero's  Orations.  She  also  began  the  study  of 
both  French  and  Italian  with  a  good  teacher. 

Harriet  was  a  hard  worker.  She  began  at  nine 
in  the  morning  and  worked  until  after  dark,  with 
only  a  half  hour's  intermission  at  noon  to  swallow  a 
little  dinner — a  very  bad  plan,  by  the  way.  She 
blamed  herself  for  being  absent-minded  and  making 
mistakes.  No  wonder  she  did  these  things!  She 
was  in  school  all  day,  either  as  pupil  or  as  teacher. 
After  a  hastily  snatched  supper  she  read  and  made 
out  exercises  for  her  class  for  half  an  hour,  and  the 
rest  of  the  evening  she  spent  in  preparing  French 
and  Italian  lessons  of  her  own.  Sister  Catherine 
was  certainly  a  disciplinarian.  She  was  also  en 
tirely  original  in  her  methods.  There  were  no  nor 
mal  schools  to  teach  her,  and  she  had  to  develop  her 
own  ways  of  working.  No  one  who  does  not  know 
the  educational  situation  of  that  day  can  imagine 
how  daring  it  was  in  her  to  attempt  all  this.  Many 
of  her  thoughts  are  a  prophecy  of  present  day  ideals. 
She  emphasized  physical  exercise,  and  this  was  by 

1 06 


STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

many  thought  dangerous,  if  not  impious.  She  gave 
prizes  for  composition  in  verse.  The  girls  were  so 
enthusiastic  in  this  work  that  they  wrote  their  poet 
ical  effusions  at  night  and  rehearsed  them  to  each 
other  in  the  morning.  They  were  then  written  out 
and  brought  to  the  teacher  to  have  the  ruthless  knife 
of  criticism  applied.  This  work  fell  to  the  hands 
of  Harriet  and  was  a  labor  of  love  to  her. 

Harriet  had  also  a  painting  and  drawing  master 
and  worked  faithfully  at  these  subjects.  After  a 
while  she  wrote  to  her  grandmother  in  Guilford  that 
she  would  send  her  a  dish  of  fruit  of  her  own  paint 
ing,  and  begged  her  not  to  devour  it  in  anticipation 
lest  she  should  find  it  sadly  tasteless  in  reality.  But 
if  she  did  find  it  so,  she  must  excuse  the  defects  for 
the  sake  of  the  poor  young  artist. 

Her  painting  made  her  think  of  her  dear  mother, 
who  would  have  been  most  interested  in  her  daugh 
ter's  efforts  in  this  direction.  Whatever  artistic 
powers  Harriet  had,  she  wished  to  cherish  for  that 
mother's  sake.  She  told  her  grandmother  that  she 
was  thinking  more  about  that  dearest  of  all  earthly 
friends  now  that  she  was  older  and  could  understand 
her  character  better  and  appreciate  her  more.  She 
thought  that,  had  her  mother  lived,  she  might  her 
self  have  been  better  and  happier  than  she  now  was. 
By  this  we  see  that  a  shadow  seemed  to  be  coming 
over  Harriet's  spirit.  But  in  her  mental  powers  the 
young  student  must  have  been  advancing  with  great 
swiftness,  for  when  she  was  only  seventeen  years 

107 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

old  she  thought  of  taking  charge  herself  of  a  school 
in  Groton  where  she  went  to  visit  her  brother 
George.  After  consulting  her  father,  and  especially 
Catherine,  however,  she  decided  not  to  undertake 
the  responsibility,  and  abandoned  the  project. 

Again  in  the  following  year — 1829 — when  the 
Hartford  school  was  for  a  time  deprived  of  the 
headship  of  Miss  Catherine,  Harriet  took  entire 
charge  of  things,  turning  the  school  for  the  nonce 
into  a  republican  form  of  government  by  means  of 
a  system  of  "Circles,"  called  Circles  of  Order,  of 
Neatness,  of  Punctuality,  of  Benevolence,  etc.  With 
profound  cleverness  she  put  the  most  fun-loving 
girls  into  the  Circle  of  Benevolence.  Then  she 
gathered  all  together  in  a  central  body,  called  the 
"Senate  of  the  Skies."  By  this  means  she  engaged 
the  girls  in  a  system  of  self-government,  prophetic 
of  methods  used  to-day.  To  Catherine,  away  at  the 
Water-cure,  Harriet  wrote: 

"DEAR  SISTER  : 

"This  morning  I  delivered  a  long  speech  on 
'Modes  of  Exerting  Moral  Influence,'  showing  the 
ways  in  which  an  evil  influence  is  unknowingly  ex 
erted  and  the  ways  in  which  each  and  all  can  exert 
a  good  one.  The  right  spirit  is  daily  increasing. 
Miss  Brigham  says  all  her  classes  seem  so  anxious 
to  do  right  and  are  so  interested  in  their  studies 
that  she  loves  them  better  and  better  every  day.  The 
other  teachers  also  say  they  never  saw  the  classes 

1 08 


STUDIES   AND   TEACHERS 

form  in  more  perfect  order  and  go  and  return  with 
so  little  noise.  I  feel  as  if  we  are  holding  the  helm, 
and  can  turn  the  vessel  the  right  way.  The  force  of 
moral  influence  seems  equal  to  that  of  authority,  and 
even  stronger.  When  the  girls  wish  what  is  against 
my  opinion,  they  say,  'Do,  Miss  Beecher,  allow  just 
this.'  'Allow  you?'  I  say;  'I  have  not  the  power; 
you  can  do  so  if  you  think  best.'  Now,  they  cannot 
ask  me  to  give  up  my  opinion  and  belief  of  right 
and  wrong,  and  they  are  unwilling  to  act  against  it." 

"Your  absence,"  she  added,  "is  doing  me  good, 
for  I  never  before  felt  so  confident  to  go  forward 
and  act."  In  another  letter  she  said:  "I  shall  be 
come  quite  an  orator  if  you  do  not  come  too  soon. 
The  school  has  never  been  more  orderly  than  it  is 
now,  and  I  think  all  the  young  ladies,  though  some 
slowly,  are  realizing  more  than  ever  before  that  they 
must  not  live  unto  themselves." 

Again  she  said:  "The  girls  are  all  anxious  to 
have  you  stay  as  long  as  you  can." 

Let  us  take  this  not  only  as  an  expression  of  loy 
alty  to  the  Principal,  but  as  an  unconscious  testi 
monial  to  the  excellence  and  charm  of  the  younger 
sister,  then  but  eighteen  years  old. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
SOME   STEPS   FORWARD 

THE  spirit  of  obedience  was  one  of  Harriet 
Beecher's  characteristic  traits.  So  she  reso 
lutely  devoted  herself  at  Catherine's  com 
mand  to  the  critical  analysis  of  Butler's  "Analogy," 
a  book  on  the  works  of  God  as  shown  both  in  nature 
and  in  the  spiritual  realm.  It  sounds  rather  pro 
found  for  a  girl  in  the  early  teens ;  but  when  we  re 
call  the  titles  she  chose  for  the  essays  she  wrote  at 
the  school  in  Litchfield,  we  are  not  surprised  that 
she  found  interest  in  such  a  book.  Indeed,  she  dis 
covered  a  real  pleasure  in  subjects  of  this  kind.  At 
the  time  when  she  was  improving  her  mind  with  the 
"Analogy,"  she  was  reading  also  another  famous 
book  of  spiritual  import,  Baxter's  "Saints'  Rest." 
No  other  book  she  ever  read  moved  her  so  pro 
foundly.  It  filled  her  with  a  sort  of  exaltation  that 
made  her  wish  as  she  walked  the  street  that  the 
pavements  might  sink  beneath  her  if  only  she  might 
thus  find  herself  in  Heaven. 

In  this  mood  of  spiritual  elevation  she  went  to 
no 


SOME    STEPS    FORWARD 

Litchfield  for  one  of  her  early  vacations.  While 
there  a  sermon  preached  by  her  father  made  a  strong 
appeal  to  her  mind  and  heart.  Dr.  Beecher's  text 
on  that  Sunday  was  this :  "I  call  you  not  servants, 
but  friends,"  and  his  subject  was  Jesus  as  a  soul- 
friend  offered  to  every  human  being. 

Forgetting  all  about  theology  for  the  time,  Dr. 
Beecher  spoke  that  day  with  all  simplicity  of  the 
faithful,  unwearied  love  of  Christ,  how  He  tenderly 
cares  for  the  soul's  wants  through  all  its  wander 
ings  and  sorrows,  until  He  brings  it  through  the 
darkness  of  earth  to  the  perfection  of  Heaven. 

Even  a  child  could  have  understood  him.  Har 
riet  sat  absorbed,  her  eyes  gathering  tears  as  she 
listened;  and  when  the  doctor  said,  "Come,  then, 
and  trust  your  soul  to  this  faithful  Friend,"  her 
heart  throbbed,  "I  will."  For  a  moment  she  was 
discouraged  by  the  thought  that  she  had  not  had  any 
"conviction  of  sin,"  but  like  a  flash  came  the  thought 
that  Jesus  could  give  her  that  as  well  as  anything 
else,  and  that  she  could  trust  Him  for  the  whole. 
And  so  her  earnest  young  soul  went  out  to  the  won 
derful  Friend.  She  sat  through  the  sacramental 
service  that  followed  with  swelling  heart  and  tearful 
eyes,  and  walked  home  filled  with  a  new  joy.  She 
went  up  to  her  father's  study  in  the  attic  room  and, 
falling  into  his  arms,  whispered:  "Father,  I  have 
given  myself  to  Jesus  and  He  has  taken  me."  The 
doctor  held  her  silently  to  his  heart  a  moment,  and 
his  tears  dropped  on  her  head.  "Is  it  so  ?"  he  said. 

in 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

"Then  has  a  new  flower  blossomed  in  the  Kingdom 
this  day." 

In  this  simple  and  natural  way  began  Harriet's 
distinctive  religious  experience.  But  we  must  not 
think  of  it  as  going  on  always  like  the  flow  of  a  calm 
river.  There  were  many  doubts  and  tremblings  to 
be  mastered,  many  puzzles  to  unravel  as  she  went 
along,  especially  during  the  years  from  twelve  to 
t  \\cntv.  We  may  say,  however,  that  the  exju -ru-nce 
of  happy  trust  in  God  became  in  the  end  BO 
tin-  law  of  her  life  that  it  could  never  be  torn 
from  her  by  any  of  the  events  of  her  mature  days, 
\\  bet  her  of  suffering  or  of  prosperity. 

It  seems  the  greatest  pity  that  the  earlier  Btagta 
of  her  rtligioufl  experience  should  not  lu\e  gone  on 
snioothh.  aa  that  of  her  wonderful  mother  had 
done.  Perhaps,  however,  others  with  difficulties 
like  hers  may  be  glad  to  look  o\er  the  reeord  of 
her  BtTUgglea  :uul  niav  take-  COUFftgC  from  her  vic 
tories. 

\\  e  have  seen  in  the  last  chapter  that  Harriet  hail 
not  been  many  years  at  llartlord  before  .1  .shadow- 
seemed  to  bo  settling  down  upon  her  spirit.  There 
Were  certainly  good  reasons  for  this. 

In  the  InM  place  she  \\as  very  much  Overworked 
as  pupil  and  teacher  in  the  Hartford  Kemalc  Sem 
inary  rian.slatiug  Ovid  into  English  verse  at  thir 
teen  years  ol  lgtt  leaching  Viri;il  aiul  Khet^ric  .it 
fourteen,  stmlwni;  l;reuch  aiul  Italian  aiul  drawing 
and  painting,  taking  a  niggardly  half  hour  for  the 

i  i  j 


SOME    STEPS    FORWARD 

mid-day  dinner,  and  snatching  a  bit  of  supper  as 
she  could,  doing  her  share  and  more  to  keep  the 
domestic  wheels  of  the  large  household  at  Hartford 
running  smoothly,  and  living  excitedly  in  the  midst 
of  this  company  of  complex  personalities,  having 
no  outdoors,  no  rest,  no  play — this  way  of  life  was 
enough  to  interfere  with  the  physical  well-being  of 
any  growing  girl,  even  with  that  of  a  robust  one 
fresh  from  the  Litchfield  mountains ! 

Harriet's  father  understood  perfectly  well  the 
relation  between  our  mental  activity  and  our  supply 
of  physical  energy.  We  know  this  because  we  so 
often  found  him  relieving  the  overstrain  by  periods 
of  devotion  to  the  woodpile  and  the  garden ;  and  it 
is  interesting  to  see  how  he  accompanied  a  prescrip 
tion  for  spiritual  ills  with  one  enjoining  obedience 
to  the  laws  of  the  body.  None  could  have  given 
better  advice  also  than  he  did  in  regard  to  the 
steadying  of  religious  emotionalism  during  revival 
among  the  students  in  Catherine's  school,  to  keep 
them  from  undue  excitement  and  to  make  the  re 
vival  season  reasonable  in  its  excitement  and  per 
manent  in  its  effects.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  advise 
and  another  to  make  people  put  the  counsel  into 
practice. 

Catherine  probably  did  not  see  the  rocks  ahead 
either  for  Harriet  or  for  herself.  She  was  indeed 
using  up  her  own  energies  so  fast  that  she  was  to 
face  a  breakdown  later  on  in  the  very  midst  of  a 
useful  career.  Then  indeed  she  did  have  to  listen 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

to  the  monitors;  but  only  after  a  period  of  ill  health 
did  she  regain  strength  for  work.  During  all  her 
life  thereafter  she  preached  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
health,  and  found  the  truth  of  the  old  adage,  "  'Had 
I  but  known  I'  is  very  poor  comfort." 

Then  we  must  remember,  too,  that  Harriet  had 
also  drained  her  own  spiritual  energy  in  watching 
the  soul-struggles  of  her  sister  Catherine  during  the 
sensitive  years  of  her  early  girlhood.  Catherine's 
grief  colored  Harriet's  thoughts  and  wonder  ings  in 
the  years  when  everything  in  her  own  situation 
looked  like  a  question. 

So  poor  little  Harriet  fell  into  a  disconsolate 
mood.  She  thought  that  she  did  nothing  right,  that 
she  yielded  to  temptation  almost  as  soon  as  it  as 
sailed  her.  What  most  commonly  beset  her,  she  be 
lieved,  was  pride;  she  could  trace  all  her  sins  back 
to  that  fault.  She  thought  she  was  not  fit  for  any 
thing,  and  she  wanted  to  die  young. 

What  young  growing  soul  has  not  been  assailed 
by  moods  like  this?  This  half  child,  half  grown 
woman  was  developing  mentally  with  great  swift 
ness,  and  could  not  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
tumults  that  were  sweeping  through  her  soul.  Not 
being  able  to  answer  certain  lofty  questions,  she 
decided  at  once  that  they  were  unanswerable  and 
that  therefore  the  universe  must  be  all  a  disastrous 
affair.  Who  has  not  sometime  made  the  same  mis 
take? 

Little  things  had  great  power  over  her.     If  she 


SOME    STEPS    FORWARD 

met  something  that  crossed  her  feelings  she  was 
unhappy  for  days.  She  wished  she  could  bring  her 
self  to  be  perfectly  indifferent  to  the  judgments  of 
others.  She  believed  there  never  had  been  a  person 
more  dependent  on  the  good  and  evil  opinions  of 
others  than  she  was.  This  desire  to  be  loved  formed, 
she  feared,  the  great  motive  for  all  her  actions. 
Alas,  she  was  in  a  parlous  state! 

That  young  mourner  for  the  death  of  Byron  and 
author  of  the  dramatic  poem,  "Cleon,"  found  her 
love  of  literature  a  snare  in  her  spiritual  pathway. 
Of  course,  she  could  not  know  that  those  very  pow 
ers  that  were  shown  by  her  tastes  and  inclinations 
were  to  be  trained  and  used  for  the  most  important 
and  world-influencing  work. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  her  father  did  not  think 
to  say  to  her  what  he  wrote  in  a  letter  some  twenty 
years  later :  "Too  long,  quite  too  long,  has  the  devil 
held  in  his  exclusive  possession  the  fine  arts."  He 
came  to  the  conclusion  in  the  end  that  ministers 
would  make  their  sermons  more  interesting  if  they 
would  add  to  their  "leaden  prose"  some  of  the  un- 
trammeled  fire  that  gives  charm  to  poetry  and  fic 
tion.  That  Dr.  Beecher  had  an  open  mind  on  this 
subject  is  shown  by  his  attitude  toward  Byron  and 
also  toward  the  novels  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  It 
could  never  have  been  a  pain  to  him  to  know  that  a 
daughter  of  his  would  become  the  author  of  a  shelf 
full  of  novels,  all  strongly  uplifting  in  their  ten 
dency. 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

But  Harriet  did  not  confide  her  deepest  thoughts 
to  him.  If  she  had  he  might  have  recalled  that  his 
own  early  days  had  been  checkered  with  despond 
ency  and  shame facedness  and  jealous  feeling.  He 
had  imagined  in  his  sensitive  humility  that  every 
body  could  see  the  interior  of  his  mind  and  find  the 
emptiness  and  vanity  that  he  believed  must  be  there. 
Yet  he  had  a  good  cure  for  such  moods,  one  that  he 
could  have  recommended  to  his  daughter.  He  re 
sisted  all  this,  he  once  said,  as  if  it  were  a  physical 
lying  disease,  representing  things  that  were  not  as 
if  they  were,  and  saying  to  such  feelings,  "Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan,  for  thou  savorest  not  the  things 
that  be  of  God  !"  But  at  the  time  of  Harriet's  great 
est  despondency  her  father  seems  not  to  have  re 
membered  the  cravings  and  perplexities  of  his  own 
youth. 

Harriet  made  up  her  mind  to  live  a  far  better 
life.  She  would  regulate  it  and  improve  it.  She 
gave  herself  a  strict  set  of  rules,  a  regular  system 
of  things  for  every  hour  o*f  the  day.  But  she  found 
that  she  could  not  live  up  to  all  this  and  the  derelic 
tions  gave  her  sleepless  nights.  Her  feelings  were 
not  always  equable.  She  was  absent-minded  and 
made  mistakes.  Terrible  faults,  these!  How  like 
a  page  from  the  life  of  everybody!  The  trouble 
in  Harriet's  case  was  that  she  took  these  variations 
of  mood  for  a  serious  breakdown  of  her  religious 
stability.  She  suffered  intensely,  yet  for  a  long 
time  she  kept  her  suffering  to  herself.  Her  natural- 

116 


SOME    STEPS    FORWARD 

ly  buoyant  spirits  did  much  to  help  her,  but  often 
she  was  reproved  for  laughing  so  much  when  she 
was  feeling  worst. 

It  was  difficult  for  Harriet  to  speak  of  these  inner 
feelings  to  others.  The  reason  for  this  was  that 
she  was  too  humble-minded  to  speak  of  so  weighty 
matters  at  all.  Besides  this,  she  felt  that  she  should 
understand  them  better  than  she  did,  and  did  not 
know  that  every  human  being  is  beset  by  the  same 
questions  that  puzzled  her.  Fortunately,  Harriet  at 
the  age  of  fourteen  had  a  brother  who  had  just 
graduated  at  Yale  and  was  studying  theology  at  An- 
dover.  This  strong  and  tender  brother  to  whom 
she  opened  her  heart  just  as  Catherine  had  opened 
hers  to  her  father,  unraveled  many  of  her  difficul 
ties  for  her. 

The  year  1829,  when  Harriet  was  sixteen  years 
old,  was  a  period  of  especial  despondency.  Cather 
ine,  worried  about  her  state  of  health,  sent  her  to 
spend  a  summer  at  Nut  Plains.  There  at  the  Foote 
homestead,  the  rest  in  the  beautiful  country,  and  we 
may  imagine,  the  regular  meals  and  the  abundance 
of  good  sleep,  did  wonders  for  tired  Harriet. 

In  that  year  the  Beecher  home  was  moved  from 
Litchfield  to  Boston,  where  Dr.  Beecher  had  been 
called  to  the  pastorate  of  the  Hanover  Street 
Church.  Now  the  atmosphere  of  any  house  in 
which  Lyman  Beecher  dwelt  would  perforce  be 
stirred  by  theological  controversy.  As  Harriet's 
brother  Henry  said,  "Theology  was  the  food  we  ate, 

117 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

and  the  milk  we  drank,  and  the  air  we  breathed,  and 
the  ground  we  trod,  from  our  earliest  years."  But 
the  new  surroundings  into  which  Dr.  Beecher  now 
came  caused  him  to  strike  out  more  vigorously  than 
ever  in  defense  of  his  favorite  beliefs.  In  this  at 
mosphere  Harriet  whenever  she  came  to  her  home 
must  thrive  as  she  could.  Her  son,  who  wrote  a 
book  about  her  life  in  1911,  says  that  the  atmosphere 
of  mental  excitement  and  conflict  in  which  her 
father  lived  and  preached  at  this  time  drove  her 
already  over-stimulated  mind  to  the  point  of  dis 
traction.  "Too  much  mental  strain  and  too  little 
exercise  had,"  he  says,  "brought  her  to  her  seven 
teenth  year  without  the  strength  which  should  have 
been  the  heritage  of  her  robust  childhood." 

It  would  not  be  possible  in  our  short  space  to 
follow  all  the  steps  in  her  soul's  progress  and  the 
degrees  by  which,  under  the  guidance  of  her  brother 
Edward,  she  gained  at  last  a  comfortable  view  of 
her  relation  to  God.  But  a  glimpse  here  and  there 
may  be  allowed  to  us. 

Above  all  things,  Harriet  could  not  understand 
how  a  God  of  infinite  perfection  could  stand  toward 
imperfect  human  beings  in  any  but  the  most  severe 
attitude.  She  could  not  see  that  One  of  infinite 
power  and  infinite  wisdom  must  have  infinite  love; 
and  toward  a  realization  of  this  truth  she  moved 
but  slowly.  How  far  along  she  had  come  in  1828 
is  shown  in  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  to 
Edward.  "After  all,"  she  said,  "God  is  a  being 

118 


SOME    STEPS    FORWARD 

afar  off.  He  is  so  far  above  us  that  anything  but 
the  most  distant  reverential  affection  seems  almost 
sacrilegious.  It  is  that  affection  that  can  lead  us  to 
be  familiar  that  the  heart  needs.  .-..".  ..  The  lan 
guage  of  prayer  is  of  necessity  stately  and  formal, 
and  we  cannot  clothe  all  the  little  minutiae  of  our 
wants  and  troubles  in  it.  ...  I  sometimes 
wish  that  the  Saviour  were  visibly  present  in  this 
world,  that  I  might  go  to  Him  for  a  solution  of 
some  of  my  difficulties." 

Later  on  we  see  that  she  is  making  great  progress 
though  she  herself  may  not  realize  that  she  is.  She 
says  in  another  letter :  "It  matters  little  what  serv 
ice  He  has  for  me.  .  .  *  .  I  do  not  mean  to  live 
in  vain.  He  has  given  me  talents,  and  I  will  lay 
tthem  at  His  feet,  well  satisfied,  if  He  will  accept 
them.  All  my  powers  He  can  enlarge.  He  made 
my  mind,  and  He  can  teach  me  to  cultivate  and  ex 
ert  its  faculties." 

At  last  in  the  character  of  Jesus  Christ  she  finds 
a  revelation  of  God  as  merciful  and  compassionate 
as  He  is  powerful — in  fact,  she  found  in  Him  just 
such  a  God  as  she  needed.  The  next  summer  she 
writes  again  to  the  same  brother  and  says :  "I  can 
not  express  to  you,  my  brother,  I  cannot  tell  you, 
how  that  Saviour  appears  to  me.  To  bear  with  one 
so  imperfect,  so  inconsistent  as  myself,  implied 
long-suffering  and  patience  more  than  words  can 
express.  I  love  most  to  look  on  Christ  as  my  teach 
er,  as  one  who,  knowing  the  utmost  of  my  sinful- 

119 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

ness,  my  waywardness,  my  folly,  can  still  have  pa 
tience,  can  reform,  purify,  and  daily  make  me  more 
like  himself." 

In  these  three  selections  from  her  letters  we  see 
the  passage  of  her  mind  from  the  attitude  of  fear 
to  the  attitude  of  love.  In  fact,  she  has  come  about 
again  to  that  child-like  mood  that  was  hers  when 
she  ran  to  her  father's  study  and  made  the  beauti 
ful  confession  of  her  earliest  conscious  faith. 

Now  she  began  to  realize  that  the  very  best  cure 
for  a  disappointing  religious  condition  within  us  is 
to  put  our  religion  into  practice  in  the  world  with 
out  us  by  means  of  a  kind  spirit  instantly  made  real 
in  kindly  acts.  Harriet  caught  this  good  idea,  per 
haps  from  the  example  of  her  sister  Catherine  who 
in  her  great  sorrow  had  done  this  at  last. 

In  a  different  way  Harriet  felt  that  she  must 
come  out  of  herself  more  than  she  had.  Not  that 
she  thought  her  love  of  solitude  and  of  going  her 
own  way  wrong  in  itself,  but  that  she  knew  that  if 
she  indulged  it  too  much  she  would  miss  the  joy 
of  knowing  that  she  was  helping  to  make  others 
happy. 

She  noticed  one  of  her  companions  engaged  in 
being  particularly  attentive  to  a  particularly  dis 
agreeable  elderly  man,  and  as  a  result  Harriet  con 
ceived  the  idea  that  it  was  a  proof  of  grace  to  say 
something  to  people  who  were  not  agreeable,  and 
to  manage  to  say  something  or  other  even  if  one 
had  nothing  to  say.  She  resolved  to  follow  the 

1 20 


SOME    STEPS    FORWARD 

example  of  the  friend  who  could  sacrifice  her  own 
taste  and  comfort  in  order  to  make  a  "forlorn  old 
daddy"  happy  and  comfortable. 

Writing  to  her  great  friend,  Georgiana  May,  in 
1832,  Harriet  told  her  of  a  sun-dial  inscription  that 
her  Uncle  Samuel  Foote,  who  was  sitting  by  her 
side  as  she  wrote,  has  just  been  quoting  for  her 
benefit.  It  ran  thus :  Horas  non  numero  nisi  sere- 
nas — I  count  the  fair  hours  only.  This  she  said 
she  was  taking  for  her  own  motto.  She  had  de 
termined,  she  told  her  friend,  to  come  out  of  herself 
more,  to  cultivate  a  general  spirit  of  kindliness 
toward  everybody,  to  hold  out  her  hand  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left.  To  what  good  purpose  she  now 
put  this  resolution  into  effect  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  her  pupils  at  Hartford  remember  her  to  this 
day  as  one  who  took  the  greatest  interest  in  each 
one's  affairs,  laying  aside  her  own  matters  and 
talking  over  the  likes  and  aims  of  others.  And 
perhaps  she  did  not  find  it  so  hard  after  all  to  keep 
from  shrinking  into  a  corner.  Perhaps  she  found 
a  pleasure  in  meeting  new  and  strange  people  and 
in  trying  to  be  friendly  with  them.  She  seems  to 
have  found  that  these  social  contacts,  though  not 
having  any  great  meaning  in  themselves,  yet  could 
form  a  very  pretty  flower  border  to  the  way  of  life. 

A  wonderful  discovery  for  one  to  make  whose 
nature,  did  she  but  know  it,  was  one  great  tide  of 
loving  impulses,  whose  heart  was  vast  in  its  all- 
including  kindliness ! 


CHAPTER   IX 
A   PILGRIMAGE 

IN  1832,  when  Harriet  Beecher  was  twenty-one 
years  old,  a  great  change  took  place  in  her 
fortunes.  She  was  transplanted  from  her  New 
England  environment  into  the  more  dynamic  life 
of  the  great,  growing  west.  But  of  course  we  must 
not  expect  to  find  the  west  of  eighty  years  ago  very 
much  like  the  west  of  to-day.  In  1832  the  middle 
of  Ohio  seemed  separated  by  vaster  distances  and 
was  more  difficult  of  access  than  any  part  of  our 
country  this  side  of  the  Pacific  Coast  seems  to-day. 
This  alteration  in  our  point  of  view  has  come  about 
because  there  never  has  been  a  time  or  place  in  the 
history  of  the  world  when  the  growth  of  a  region 
has  been  so  swift  or  so  picturesque  as  in  that  part 
of  our  country  that  we  now  call  the  "middle  west." 
Of  those  wonderful  things  that  were  to  take  place 
in  the  advancement  of  our  country's  resources  and 
welfare,  the  building  of  schools,  churches,  libraries 
and  institutions  of  all  kinds,  and  the  development 
of  national  spirit,  Harriet  Beecher's  father  seems 

122 


A    PILGRIMAGE 

to  have  had  a  prevision.  He  saw  the  great  possi 
bilities  in  the  growing  western  country,  and  felt  a 
burning  desire  to  have  a  share  in  upbuilding  the 
best  things  there.  His  feeling  in  regard  to  this 
great  work  is  illustrated  in  one  little  page  of  his 
biography. 

In  order  to  impress  the  full  meaning  of  prayer 
upon  his  mind  and  heart,  Dr.  Beecher  would  some 
times  write  it  out  in  his  diary;  and  in  one  of  these 
prayers  written  at  about  this  time  he  said  :  "If  there 
be  anything  which  by  living  I  can  do,  or  by  dying  I 
can  do,  to  mitigate  on  earth  the  miseries  of  sin 
and  to  save  my  country  and  to  save  the  world,  then 
speak,  Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth." 

About  this  time  also  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Cather 
ine,  in  which  he  said:  "I  have  thought  seriously 
of  going  over  to  Cincinnati,  that  London  of  the 
west,  to  spend  the  remnant  of  my  days  in  that  great 
conflict,  and  in  consecrating  all  my  children  to  God 
in  that  region  who  are  willing  to  go.  If  we  gain 
the  west,  all  is  safe;  if  we  lose  it,  all  is  lost.  .  .  . 
This  is  not  with  me  a  transient  flash  of  feeling,  but 
a  feeling  as  if  the  great  battle  is  to  be  fought  in  the 
valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and  as  if  it  may  be  the 
will  of  God  that  I  shall  be  employed  to  arouse  and 
help  marshal  the  host  for  the  conflict.  .  .  . 
These  are  only  my  thoughts,  but  they  are  deep,  and 
yet  withal,  my  ways  are  committed  to  God." 

1  From   Lyman    Beecher's    "Autobiography,"    1866,    Vol.    II, 
p.  224. 

I23 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

It  was  in  this  spirit  that  he  received  a  call  to  be 
come  the  head  of  Lane  Theological  Seminary  in 
Cincinnati,  Ohio.  Catherine  sympathized  with  her 
father  in  his  enthusiasm  for  the  intellectual  and 
spiritual  development  of  the  west,  and  she  decided 
to  go  with  him  into  the  new  work.  In  fact  he  had 
said  to  her,  "If  /  go,  it  is  part  of  my  plan  that  you 

go." 

Harriet  had  now  to  leave  her  many  friends  in 
Hartford  and  the  relatives  in  Litchfield  and  Nut 
Plains.  Her  two  brothers,  William  and  Edward, 
were  now  established  preachers,  and  Henry  Ward 
and  Charles  were  in  college.  The  sister  next  older 
than  herself,  Mary,  was  married  and  was  living  in 
Hartford.  To  separate  from  all  these  loved  ones 
and  go  out  into  a  far  distant  land  was  very  hard. 

The  journey  west  occupied  many  days  and  had 
something  of  the  fascination  of  a  wild  adventure. 
They  were  going  into  a  new  land,  into  a  great  mis 
sionary  field ;  their  hearts  were  high  and  their  cour 
age  was  good.  They  chose  the  most  expeditious 
way  of  going,  which  at  that  time  was  by  way  of 
New  York  City,  Philadelphia,  over  the  mountains 
to  Wheeling,  and  then  down  the  Ohio  River  to  Cin 
cinnati.  This,  we  must  remember,  was  before  the 
through  railroad  lines  to  the  west  had  been  built. 

There  were  many  pauses  by  the  way  for  the 
Beecher  cavalcade,  since  the  fame  of  Dr.  Lyman 
Beecher  as  the  greatest  of  the  pulpit  speakers  of 
New  England  had  been  carried  everywhere,  and 

124 


A    PILGRIMAGE 

the  people  in  the  large  towns  through  which  they 
passed  wished  him  to  stay  long  enough  at  least  to 
preach  to  them — a  request  that  he  was  anxious  to 
grant. 

The  first  stopping  place  was  New  York.  Here 
they  paused  long  enough  for  Dr.  Beecher  to  preach 
several  times  and  to  see  many  of  his  friends  among 
the  ministers  and  to  make  more.  Harriet  found 
life  in  that  great  city  of  New  York,  as  she  said, 
"too  scattering."  She  believed  it  would  "kill  her 
dead"  to  live  long  in  the  way  they  were  living  there. 
It  seemed  to  her  like  a  sort  of  "agreeable  delirium" ! 
She  began  to  be  thirsty  for  the  waters  of  quietness. 
But  her  father,  she  said,  was  in  his  element — dip 
ping  into  books,  consulting  authorities  for  his  ora 
tions,  going  around  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
begging,  borrowing,  and  spoiling  the  Egyptians,  de 
lighted  with  past  success  and  confident  for  the  fu 
ture. 

Dr.  Beecher  had  also  another  object  in  view, 
which  was  to  do  some  energetic  begging  for  the 
foundation  of  the  Biblical  professorship  in  the  The 
ological  Seminary  of  which  he  was  about  to  take 
charge.  Harriet,  in  writing  back  to  friends  in  Hart 
ford  about  it,  said  casually:  "The  incumbent  of 
this  foundation  is  to  be  C.  Stowe."  This  is  the  first 
time  that  we  hear  the  name  of  the  one  who  is  to 
bear  so  large  a  part  in  the  story  of  Harriet  Beecher's 
life. 

From  New  York  the  Beecher  company  went  by 

125 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

steamboat  to  Philadelphia.  Here  they  had  the  great 
misfortune  to  lose  track  of  all  their  baggage.  They 
had  to  wait  for  a  time  in  Philadelphia  until  it  could 
be  traced  to  another  wharf.  It  was  finally  recov 
ered  and  brought  on,  but  not  till  after  the  ladies  of 
the  family,  usually  the  very  pink  of  perfection  in 
their  starched  and  snowy  collars  and  lace  edgings, 
had  suffered  extreme  discomfort  because  of  the  limp 
and  dusty  condition  of  their  frills.  The  comfort  of 
the  family  was  at  last  restored  and  the  mother  and 
Aunt  Esther  were  supplied  with  fresh  caps  and 
ruffles.  Great  was  the  joy!  Dr.  Beecher  struck 
an  attitude  as  the  boxes  were  brought  in,  swung  his 
hat,  and  called  for  three  cheers.  "So  should  a  man 
do,"  cried  Harriet,  "whose  wife  has  not  had  a  cap 
or  a  ruffle  for  a  week !" 

The  delay  in  Philadelphia  was  not  specially  un 
welcome.  Here  the  party  was  separated  into  two 
sections :  the  father  and  mother  with  Aunt  Esther 
and  the  baby,  went  to  one  friend's  house,  and  the 
older  children  to  another.  Their  hosts  were  rich, 
hospitable  folks  and  their  visits  were  full  of  en 
joyment.  There  was  much  to  be  seen  by  the  young 
people,  and  the  father's  energies  were  taken  up 
with  conferences  and  preaching  and  with  prayer- 
meetings  held  specially  for  the  success  of  the  great 
missionary  object  that  was  calling  him  into  what 
seemed  to  them  all  a  very  far-away  country. 

By  all  this  business  they  were  kept  so  long  that 
Mrs.  Beecher  and  Aunt  Esther  demurred  at  the 

126 


M   PILGRIMAGE 

delay.  Dr.  Beecher  told  them  that  they  were  in  the 
hands  of  Providence,  but  they  said  that  they  would 
much  prefer  to  trust  Providence  by  the  way! 

At  last  they  were  all  ready  to  take  the  plunge  into 
the  actual  west. 

If  their  journey  had  but  been  a  few  years  later, 
a  railroad  train  would  have  taken  them  as  far  as 
Columbia,  Pennsylvania;  then  a  canal  would  have 
carried  them  along  the  east  bank  of  the  Susquehanna 
River  as  far  as  the  entrance  to  the  Juniata.  At  this 
point  the  canal  would  have  crossed  that  great  river 
by  means  of  an  aqueduct  and  they  would  have  fol 
lowed  the  blue  Juniata  to  Hollidaysburg.  There 
the  problem  how  to  get  over  the  forbidding  moun 
tain  ridge  that  faced  them  would  have  been  solved 
by  the  exciting  method  of  a  portage  which  by  means 
of  pulleys  drew  the  cars  up  to  fourteen  hundred  feet 
above  that  town,  using  three  levels  for  separate 
short  journeys  from  level  to  level.  The  descent  to 
Johnstown  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge  would  have 
been  made  by  the  same  method  reversed,  and  the 
canal  packet  boat  from  that  place  would  have  used 
the  Kiskiminetos  River  along  to  Pittsburgh,  where 
the  great  Ohio  River  would  have  brought  them  to 
Cincinnati.  All  this  could  have  been  done  in  1836. 
But  this  was  1832;  and  none  of  these  things  were 
under  way  at  the  time,  though  they  were  being 
more  or  less  seriously  thought  of.  The  only  meth 
od  of  traveling  in  the  year  1832  was  by  the  time- 
hohored  daily  or  tri-weekly  stages. 

127 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

Of  these  stage-coach  lines  an  elaborate  system 
was  at  their  service;  for  the  largest  part  of  the 
journey,  the  family  availed  themselves  of  this  meth 
od,  sometimes,  however,  finding  it  more  economical 
for  so  large  a  party  to  charter  a  coach  and  have  it 
all  to  themselves. 

We  may  imagine  them  climbing  into  a  big  old- 
fashioned  stage,  drawn  by  four  great  horses,  and 
starting  out  for  Wheeling,  a  city  that  lies  right  in 
the  line  from  New  York  to  the  southern  part  of 
Ohio,  if  you  make  the  line  curve  a  little  bit  to  the 
south  in  order  to  make  the  easiest  cut  through  the 
mountains. 

The  company  included  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Beecher  and 
Aunt  Esther;  and  for  children,  there  were  Cather 
ine,  Harriet,  Isabella,  George,  Thomas  and  James; 
some  of  these  names  have  been  added  to  the  list 
since  the  Litchfield  days.  As  for  this  company  of 
young  folks,  it  may  be  safely  said  that  they  enjoyed 
every  inch  of  the  way;  no  badness  of  the  roads, 
no  threat  of  tempest,  no  weariness  of  unsupported 
backs,  could  subdue  their  skipping  spirits.  There 
was  plenty  of  room  in  the  coach  with  three  on  a 
seat.  Besides  that,  George  sat  with  the  driver  on 
the  box,  and  as  the  journey  progressed,  and  new 
drivers  took  their  places  at  the  points  where  horses 
were  exchanged,  he  acquired  every  little  while  a 
new  set  of  stories  which  he  faithfully  shouted  back 
to  the  occupants  behind.  George  was  also  a  great 
singer,  and  led  the  choir  of  the  whole  coachful 

128 


A    PILGRIMAGE 

in  singing  hymns  and  songs.  Whenever  they  passed 
through  a  town  or  along  by  a  small  wayside  vil 
lage,  he  let  loose  a  packet  of  tracts  and  snowed  them 
all  along  the  road  for  the  inhabitants  to  pick  up 
after  the  cavalcade  had  gone  by.  And  woe  be  to 
any  wayfaring  people  that  came  along  the  road  if 
they  did  not  love  tracts,  for  these  snowy  batteries 
were  discharged  regularly  upon  the  head  of  each 
one  they  met !  Harriet  called  out  to  him,  "George, 
you  are  peppering  the  country  with  moral  influ 
ence." 

The  first  day  was  full  of  enjoyment;  they  had  an 
obliging  driver,  good  roads,  good  spirits,  a  good 
dinner,  fine  scenery.  Harriet  pronounced  it  all 
good.  That  day  they  went  about  thirty  miles  and 
reached  Downington,  Pennsylvania.  Here,  as  Har 
riet  said,  they  were  dropped  down  like  Noah  and 
his  wife  and  his  sons  and  his  daughters,  with  the 
cattle  and  creeping  things.  And  here  they  had  the 
first  night's  rest  of  their  real  pilgrimage. 

Wherever  they  stopped  was  home  for  the  time 
being.  To  bring  about  this  magical  transformation 
of  things  that  mean  nothing,  into  things  that  mean 
"home,"  was  a  special  gift  of  Harriet's,  acquired 
in  her  own  home  circle.  On  this  journey  into  the 
wilds  there  was  always  a  gathering  of  the  children 
for  singing  and  prayer  in  the  little  parlor  of  what 
ever  inn  might  be  their  stopping  place  for  the  time. 
On  such  an  evening  we  can  see  them  sitting  around 
the  table  in  the  candle  light,  the  father  reading  and 

129 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

studying,  Catherine  writing  to  Mary  at  Hartford, 
ami  Harriet  to  her  loved  friend,  Georgiana  May, 
Thomas  working  at  his  journal,  and  Isabella  keep 
ing  her  little  record,  too,  while  George  is  only  wait 
ing  for  a  chance  to  sit  up  to  the  table  and  take  his 
pen.  In  her  letter  Harriet  is  saying  this :  "As  for 
me,  among  the  multitude  of  my  present  friends, 
my  heart  still  makes  occasional  visits  to  the  absent 
ones,  visits  full  of  pleasure  and  full  of  cause  for 
gratitude  to  Him  who  gives  us  friends.  I  have 
thought  of  you  often  to-day,  my  Georgiana.  .  .  . 
This  afternoon  as  we  were  traveling,  we  struck  up 
'Jubilee.'  It  put  me  in  mind  of  the  time  when  we 
used  to  ride  along  the  rough  North  Guilford  roads 
and  make  the  air  vocal  as  we  went  along.  Pleas 
ant  times,  those!  Those  were  blue  skies,  and  that 
was  a  beautiful  lake,  and  noble  pine-trees  and  rocks 
they  were  that  hung  over  it.  But  those  we  shall 
look  upon  'nae  mair.'  Well,  my  dear,  there  is  a 
land  where  we  shall  not  love  and  leave.  Those  skies 
shall  never  cease  to  shine,  the  waters  of  life  we 
shall  never  be  called  upon  to  leave.  We  have  here 
no  a -nt inning  city,  but  we  seek  one  to  come.  In 
such  thoughts  as  these  I  desire  ever  to  rest,  and 
with  such  words  as  these  let  us  'comfort  one  another 
and  edify  one  another.' ' 

The  next  stopping  place  was  Harrisburg.  Here 
thev  had  another  homelike  evening,  gathering  in 
Catherine's  room  for  a  "sing"  before  going  to  bed. 
Then  followed  a  good  restful  sleep  in  preparation 

130 


A    PILGRIMAGE 

for  the  long,  slow  journey  up  the  Appalachian  range 
that  was  to  begin  in  the  morning.  In  this  part  of 
the  pilgrimage  they  were  not  so  fortunate  as  they 
had  hitherto  been.  The  horses  were  poor  and  the 
roads  very  bad.  It  took  them  eight  days  to  do 
what  the  mail-stage  was  accustomed  to  accomplish 
in  two.  But  good  company  makes  a  long  journey 
short.  The  children's  spirits  were  equal  to  the  need, 
though  they  may  have  been  by  this  time  a  little 
weary.  They  flung  their  songs  upon  the  breeze  and 
their  tracts  upon  the  traveler  whenever  they  met 
one,  and  left  a  trail  of  gladness  upon  the  mountain 
heights. 

When  they  reached  the  city  of  Wheeling  the  fam 
ily  were  again  distributed  among  the  homes  of  the 
people  who  were  desirous  that  they  should  remain 
so  that  they  might  hear  Dr.  Beecher  preach.  At 
this  place  the  family  had  expected  to  take  the  canal 
boat  down  the  Ohio.  But  either  because  the  water 
was  too  low  or  because  of  a  rumor  that  cholera  was 
becoming  prevalent  down  the  river,  they  decided 
against  the  great  waterway  as  a  means  of  travel. 
And  if  the  canal  boat  experience  would  have  been 
like  that  described  by  Dickens  in  his  "American 
Notes"  or  even  like  the  short  sketch  that  Harriet 
Beecher  made  in  her  little  story,  "The  Canal-boy," 
the  Beecher  party  had  little  to  regret  in  being  com 
pelled  to  go  a  roundabout  way,  in  a  comfortably 
airy  stage-coach,  even  though  the  journey  by  this 
method  did  take  longer. 

10  I31 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

After  a  busy  week  in  Wheeling,  they  chartered  a 
coach  again  and  went  on  westward.  This  time  they 
/verged  a  little  northward  and  took  in  Granville, 
Ohio,  where  they  stayed  a  while  to  attend  a  pro 
tracted  meeting.  Here  there  was  more  and  more 
preaching.  For  the  rest  of  the  way  there  was  a  cor 
duroy  road,  made  of  logs  laid  crosswise.  George 
said,  "They  make  the  roads  this  way  for  the  bene 
fit  of  the  dyspeptics  out  here."  But  never  mind! 
That  corduroy  road  led  over  the  most  beautiful 
rolling  prairie,  and  down  along  pleasant  river 
courses,  till  it  came  in  view  of  a  wide  valley  through 
which  the  great  Ohio,  La  Belle  Riviere,  swept  with 
a  great  curve,  leaving  a  charmed  space  for  the 
building  of  a  city.  Here  the  stage-coach  swung 
along  through  streets  between  rows  of  neat  red 
brick  houses  surrounded  by  abundant  gardens,  and 
paused  at  last  for  rest  after  the  long  pilgrimage. 
Here  the  Beecher  home  was  to  be  for  eighteen  years. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE   WESTERN   HOME 

ON  arriving  in  this  western  metropolis,  the 
Beechers  were  not  entirely  like  strangers 
in  a  strange  land.  The  Doctor,  accompa 
nied  by  Catherine,  had  made  a  tour  of  inspection 
the  year  before,  and  had  made  many  acquaintances 
with  whom  they  had  talked  over  their  educational 
plans.  Besides  this,  Harriet  had  two  prosperous 
uncles  in  Cincinnati,  who  were  taking  part  in  all 
the  most  vital  concerns  of  the  city;  one  was  that 
fascinating  Uncle  Samuel  Edmonds  Foote,  and  the 
other  was  Mr.  John  Parsons  Foote,  brother  of 
Uncle  Samuel,  who  was  also  a  highly  cultivate^ 
gentleman.  These  uncles  welcomed  the  wanderers 
and  made  them  at  home  in  their  comfortable  resi 
dences  on  the  heights  where  the  view  of  the  whole 
city  was  spread  out  beneath  their  windows.  Uncle 
John  and  Uncle  Samuel,  said  Harriet,  were  the 
"intelligent,  sociable,  free,  and  hospitable  sort  of 
folk  that  everybody  likes  and  everybody  feels  at 
home  with." 

133 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

In  the  city  they  also  found  a  large  number  of  old 
Litchfield  and  Guilford  friends,  who  had  come  out 
before  them  and  had  already  become  a  part  of  the 
thriving  intellectual  and  social  life  of  the  town  and 
region.  For  in  our  thought  of  the  western  city,  far 
removed  from  what  were  then  the  centers  of  na 
tional  activity,  we  must  not  imagine  too  severe  a 
picture  of  simplicity  and  wilderness  life.  The  pio 
neering  period  had  in  fact  passed  entirely  by.  In 
1833  the  famous  Buckeye  Dinner  celebrated  the 
forty-fifth  anniversary  of  the  first  settlement  of  the 
city,  and  this  means  a  long  time  in  the  history  of  a 
western  town  in  the  United  States  where  the  growth 
is  like  that  of  a  mushroom  in  the  night.  When  the 
Beechers  came  there  in  1832,  there  was  a  court 
house,  a  banking  house,  a  medical  college  with  a 
hospital  and  some  asylums;  there  were  fifteen 
churches,  several  Bible  societies,  several  public  li 
braries,  a  theater,  a  humane  society  and  a  museum. 
There  were  large  markets,  twenty-one  foundries  and 
factories,  and  a  great  steamboat  business  with  large 
imports  and  exports.  At  the  wharves  there  was 
room  for  thirty  steamboats  at  one  time,  and  the 
country  all  about  Cincinnati  was  threaded  with  post 
roads.  Before  the  Beechers  left  the  city  in  1850 
there  were  railroad  facilities  in  some  directions,  a 
Society  of  Fine  Arts  with  thirty-three  active  work 
ing  painters  and  sculptors  in  its  circle,  an  Academy 
of  Music,  and  forty-three  churches.  The  popula 
tion  in  1833  was  twenty-seven  thousand.  It  in- 

134 


THE    WESTERN    HOME 

creased  with  amazing  rapidity.  During  one  year 
of  the  Beechers'  stay  eleven  hundred  houses  were 
built. 

A  place  that  was  making  such  a  record  as  this 
was  certain  to  receive  a  great  deal  of  notice.  As 
the  city  was  built  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  River, 
the  one  possible  thread  of  travel  at  that  time  from 
the  Atlantic  coast  to  the  remoter  west,  travelers  of 
an  investigating  turn  of  mind — of  whom  there  has 
always  been  a  constant  procession  to  this  country — 
had  to  pass  Cincinnati  on  their  way;  they  usually 
paused  for  a  time  to  see  this  wonderful  city  grow. 
It  grew  so  fast  that  they  could  fairly  see  the  process 
going  on!  During  the  time  that  Harriet  Beecher 
lived  in  Cincinnati  many  noted  writers  stayed  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  time  in  the  city,  observing  things 
more  or  less  closely,  and  afterward  wrote  about 
what  they  saw.  Among  them  were  Fenno  Hoffman, 
Godfrey  de  Vigne,  Chevalier,  Harriet  Martineau, 
Captain  Marryat,  Professor  Frank  Hall,  Bucking 
ham,  Mrs.  Steele,  Charles  Dickens,  Sir  Charles 
Lyell,  who  spoke  chiefly  of  the  geological  forma 
tion;  the  Honorable  Charles  Augustus  Murray,  the 
Lady  Emmeline  Stuart  Wortley  and  Mary  Howitt, 
who  wrote  most  of  her  book  in  a  quiet  valley  in 
the  suburbs  of  the  city.  Captain  Marryat  said :  "It 
is  a  beautiful,  well-kept,  clean  town,  reminding  you 
of  Philadelphia.  .  .  .  Situated  on  a  hill  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  it  is  surrounded  by  a  phalanx  of 
other  hills;  so  that,  look  up  and  down  the  streets 

135 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

whichever  way  you  will,  your  eye  reposes  upon  ver 
dure  and  forest  trees  in  the  distance." 

Other  visitors  noted  also  the  "pretty  gardens  and 
ornamental  shrubberies."  and  some  declared,  with 
expressions  of  amazement,  that  every  comfort  and 
convenience  was  to  be  found  in  the  city.  Mrs.  Steele 
called  Cincinnati  the  "Queen  of  the  West."  "We 
have  explored  it  thoroughly  by  walking  and  riding, 
and  we  pronounce  it  wonderful,"  she  said.  She  was 
astonished  that  such  a  city  could  have  come  from 
what  was  so  lately  a  wilderness.  There  were  rows 
of  handsome  dwellings,  surrounded  by  shade  trees. 
An  accidental  opening  among  the  trees  gave  you  a 
glimpse  of  a  pavilion  where,  among  groves  and  gar 
dens,  the  ladies  and  children  of  the  family  might 
enjoy  the  fresh  air. 

But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  all  the  distin 
guished  visitors  to  this  mid-country  city  of  the 
United  States  should  be  thus  pleasantly  impressed. 
One  went  so  far  as  to  laugh  at  the  idea  of  calling  it 
the  "Empire  City  of  the  West,"  and  substitutes  for 
this  proud  title  the  obnoxious  one,  "Empire  City  of 
Pigs!"  for  this  writer  claimed  that  the  pigs  ran  in 
the  street  with  perfect  comfort  to  themselves  though 
perhaps  not  to  the  members  of  the  human  family. 
We  find,  however,  that  Harriet  Beecher's  little 
brother  enjoyed  this  Cincinnati  custom  hugely,  for 
he  would  frequently  be  found  walking  soberly  along 
by  the  side  of  a  pig  with  his  arm  around  its  neck, 
or  even  sitting  astride  one  of  the  monsters,  gal- 

136 


THE    WESTERN    HOME 

lantly  riding  it — at  least  for  a  few  minutes ! — to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  populace. 

It  was  six  years  before  the  coming  of  the  Beech- 
ers  that  the  famous  Mrs.  Trollope  visited  Cincinnati 
and  thereafter  wrote  her  ill-natured  comments  on 
the  ambitious  western  metropolis.  Harriet  Marti- 
neau,  coming  in  1834,  was  possessed  of  a  more 
genial  spirit.  She  found  the  city  so  full  of  ambi 
tion  that  they  were  meditating  on  the  place  where 
the  capitol  building  should  stand  when  the  center 
of  the  national  government  should  be  removed  from 
Washington  to  the  city  of  Ohio  which  was  so  much 
nearer  to  the  center  of  the  country.  She  thought 
this  a  very  good  idea.  It  seemed  to  her  absurd  for 
senators  from  Missouri  and  Louisiana  to  go  so  far 
as  Washington  when  they  might,  by  the  mere  re 
moval  of  the  seat  of  government,  stop  at  Cincinnati. 
But  we  are  most  interested  in  hearing  what  Charles 
Dickens  had  to  say  about  Cincinnati,  which  he  vis 
ited  in  1840.  To  this  stirring  city  he  assigned  a 
chapter  in  his  "American  Notes,"  where  he  gave  it 
perhaps  a  more  fair,  certainly  a  more  favorable, 
treatment  than  he  did  to  some  other  cities  that  he 
saw.  He  says:  "Cincinnati  is  a  beautiful  city; 
cheerful,  thriving,  and  animated.  I  have  not  often 
seen  a  place  that  commends  itself  so  favorably  and 
pleasantly  to  a  stranger  at  the  first  glance  as  this 
does,  with  its  clean  houses  of  red  and  white,  its 
well-paved  roads,  and  footways  of  bright  tile."  He 
goes  on  to  speak  of  the  amphitheater  of  hills,  the 

137 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

comfortable  houses,  the  elegant  residences.  Then 
he  describes  a  great  temperance  convention  held 
there  on  the  day  after  his  arrival.  There  was  a 
procession  with  dramatic  and  symbolic  floats ;  there 
was  much  speech-making  and  the  school  children 
sang  in  chorus.  The  main  thing,  however,  was  the 
conduct  and  appearance  of  the  audience  throughout 
the  day,  and  that  was  admirable  and  full  of  promise. 

I  do  not  know  that  this  particular  city  was  spe 
cially  given  to  processions  or  that  the  parade  is  a 
matter  of  western  taste.  Perhaps  it  is  a  national  or 
even  an  Anglo-Saxon  mode  of  expressing  exuber 
ant  vitality.  However  that  may  be,  we  have  another 
description  of  a  Cincinnati  pageant  that  may  interest 
us,  as  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  took  place  while 
Harriet  Beecher  was  living  in  the  city.  It  is  re 
ported  for  us  by  Harriet  Martineau,  who  saw  it 
while  she  was  there  in  1834.  It  was  a  wonderful 
parade  of  school  children — two  thousand  in  number ! 
Miss  Martineau  thought  it  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
sights  that  she  ever  saw. 

Can  it  be  that  our  Harriet  did  not  see  that  won 
derful  procession  of  two  thousand  Cincinnati  school 
children?  We  do  not  believe  it.  And  is  it  not 
strange  to  think  that  these  two  great  Harriets  of  the 
Old  and  the  New  World  should  have  stood  together 
to  watch  this  flaming  sign  of  promise  for  the  future 
of  the  English-speaking  people,  and  should  not  have 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  to  know  each  other? 
At  any  rate,  Harriet  of  America  forgot  all  about 

138 


THE    WESTERN    HOME 

the  visit  of  her  British  sister;  but  a  long  time  after, 
Harriet  of  England  sent  an  invitation  to  her  Amer 
ican  contemporary  to  visit  her  in  her  English  home. 
She  remembered  the  older  Beecher  girl,  Catherine, 
very  well;  she  had  a  clear  recollection  of  Dr.  Lyman 
Beecher;  but — "Did  I  see  you,"  she  asked,  "in  a 
white  frock  and  a  black  silk  apron  ?  • .  .  .  I  be 
lieve  and  hope  you  were  the  young  lady  in  the  black 
silk  apron."  Of  such  unseen  links  as  this  is  history 
made ;  the  lives  of  the  actors  and  leaders  of  thought 
cross  each  other  and  interweave,  making  a  continu 
ous  onflow  of  life. 

Before  we  leave  the  more  general  things  that  were 
happening  in  Cincinnati  during  the  years  that  Har 
riet  Beecher  lived  there,  we  must  recur  once  more 
to  that  Buckeye  Dinner  that  took  place  the  year 
after  she  came.  I  do  not  know  whether  any  of  the 
theologues  from  the  Seminary  were  present  or  not ; 
but  if  they  were,  they  heard  a  wonderful  speech 
from  one  of  the  great  men  of  the  nation's  history. 
That  was  General  Harrison,  son  of  a  patriot  of  Rev 
olutionary  fame,  and  himself  a  conspicuous  patriot. 
A  French  guest  of  the  city  relates  that  he  saw  in  the 
hotel  a  noticeable  man  of  about  fifty  years  old,  of 
medium  height,  and  of  muscular  build,  with  an 
open  and  cheerful  countenance  and  with  a  certain 
air  of  command ;  and  when  he  asked  who  that  was 
he  was  told  that  that  was  General  Harrison,  Clerk 
of  the  Cincinnati  Court  of  Common  Pleas.  "What ! 
General  Harrison  of  the  Tippecanoe  and  the 

139 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

Thames  ?"  he  cried.  The  answer  was :  "The  same ; 
the  ex-Governor,  the  conqueror  of  Tecumseh  and 
Proctor ;  the  avenger  of  our  disasters  of  the  Raisin 
and  at  Detroit ;  the  ex-Governor  of  the  Territory  of 
Indiana;  the  ex-Senator  in  Congress,  and  the  ex- 
Minister  to  one  of  the  South  American  Republics. 
He  has  grown  old  in  the  service  of  his  country," 
continued  the  informant;  "he  has  passed  twenty 
years  of  his  life  in  those  fierce  wars  with  the  Indians, 
in  which  there  was  less  glory  to  be  won  but  more 
danger  to  be  encountered  than  at  Rivoli  and  Auster- 
litz.  He  is  now  poor  with  a  numerous  family,  and  is 
neglected  by  the  Federal  Government,  although  yet 
vigorous,  because  he  has  the  independence  to  think 
for  himself.  His  friends  got  the  place  of  clerk  as 
a  sort  of  retiring  pension.  So  we  have  him  as  clerk 
of  an  inferior  court."  This  great  man,  then,  was 
living  at  Cincinnati.  In  the  Roman  and  the  Amer 
ican  fashion  he  was  in  retirement  after  a  time  of 
political  activity  and  was  living  as  a  farmer ;  but  he 
was  to  be  recalled  in  a  few  years  to  the  nation's 
highest  place  of  honor,  a  position  that  he  was  to 
hold,  however,  but  one  month  before  he  was  to 
pass  away  in  the  midst  of  his  work.  As  time  went 
on,  General  Harrison  was  intimately  connected  in 
various  ways  with  the  lines  of  life  in  the  Beecher 
and  Stowe  households,  and  was  venerated  by  them 
heartily. 

There  were  many  other  distinguished  people  that 
passed  a  part  of  their  lives  in  this  city  during  the 

140 


THE    WESTERN    HOME 

years  that  interest  us,  but  we  must  not  stay  to  name 
them.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  life  was  by  no  means 
dull  in  Cincinnati.  Besides  processions  and  ban 
quets,  there  was  an  occasional  flood  on  the  river  to 
enliven  things,  or  a  steamboat  explosion.  There 
were  passages  of  wild  excitement  over  various  pub 
lic  questions,  there  were  hangings  and  bank  mobs 
and  negro  mobs.  All  these  events  of  a  public  na 
ture  were  to  be  part  of  the  warp  and  woof  of  the 
life  of  this  family  that  were  living  there  and  were 
working  eagerly  for  the  best  interests  of  the  city 
and  country.  Harriet  tells  us  that  while  they  lived 
at  Walnut  Hills  the  favorite  subjects  of  conversa 
tion  at  the  home  table  changed.  While  the  former 
subjects  of  free-will  and  regeneration,  of  Heaven 
and  the  destiny  of  man  were  still  discussed,  new 
subjects  were  now  added.  The  United  States  Con 
stitution  came  into  the  debate,  and — the  fugitive 
slave  laws.  Is  it  any  wonder?  They  must  have 
talked  over  Harrison's  speech  and  all  the  other  pa 
triotic  speeches,  whether  given  in  connection  with 
the  peaceful  gatherings  of  white-robed  school  chil 
dren  in  churches,  or  more  passionately  uttered  when 
mobs  swept  through  the  town  and  burned  and  slew. 
Of  all  this  we  shall  hear  later  on. 

The  house  that  the  Beechers  were  obliged  to  live 
in  when  they  first  came  to  Cincinnati  was,  Harriet 
said  in  a  letter  to  Hartford,  the  most  inconvenient, 
ill-arranged,  good-for-nothing  and  altogether  ex 
ecrable  affair  that  ever  was  put  together.  The 

141 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

kitchen  was  so  arranged  that  their  mother  could 
not  go  into  it  without  putting  on  a  bonnet  and 
cloak ;  the  parlor  had  one  window,  and  that  opened 
upon  a  porch  and  had  its  lower  half  painted  to  keep 
out  what  little  light  there  was.  It  was  built,  she 
averred,  by  a  bachelor  who  of  course  acted  up  to 
whatever  light  he  had,  though  that  left  little  enough 
for  his  tenants.  In  this  merry  way  Harriet  made 
the  best  of  everything  and  turned  their  difficulties 
and  inconveniences  into  pleasantry.  Nevertheless, 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  Harriet  had  some  slight  touch 
of  homesickness.  Not  a  day  passed  that  she  did  not 
engineer  the  sending  of  somebody  to  the  post  of 
fice,  and  when  the  reply  repeatedly  came,  "No  let 
ters,"  her  heart  sank  within  her.  Therefore,  when 
the  first  letter  did  come  to  the  circle  at  Cincinnati, 
Harriet  was  so  overjoyed  that  she  cut  up  all  manner 
of  capers  expressive  of  thankfulness,  went  up  three 
stairs  at  a  time  to  get  to  the  study  to  begin  an  an 
swer,  wishing  devoutly  that  the  path  of  duty  led  in 
the  direction  of  writing  a  long  letter  instead  of  in 
the  direction  of  darning  the  heels  of  George's  stock 
ings!  The  possession  of  this  letter  was  a  secret 
from  all  but  Catherine  and  herself,  and  they  decided 
to  keep  it  till  supper  time  and  then  spring  it  as  a 
surprise.  This  method  had  its  disadvantages;  it 
seemed  too  bad  to  keep  it  from  mother  and  Aunt 
Esther  for  a  whole  afternoon,  but  the  girls  had  the 
satisfaction  of  thinking  that  they  were  planning  for 
their  greatest  happiness  on  the  whole,  which,  Har- 

142 


THE   WESTERN    HOME 

riet  considered,  was  true  metaphysical  benevolence. 

Supper  time  came.  There  was  a  suppressed  ex 
citement  in  the  air.  At  last  Catherine  held  up  her 
hand  and  said,  "We  have  a  dessert  that  we  have 
been  saving  all  the  afternoon.  See  here!  This  is 
from  Hartford!"  she  cried,  and  then  Harriet  held 
up  the  Hartford  letter.  How  all  the  people  stared ! 
Mrs.  Beecher's  pale  face  was  all  one  smile,  Aunt 
Esther's  eyes  were  very  bright  and  the  father's  were 
almost  tearful  as  he  looked  at  the  familiar  and  be 
loved  handwriting.  Harriet  read  the  letter  to  an 
enraptured  audience  and  every  allusion  was  appre 
ciated  to  the  full.  "Mrs.  Parsons  stopped  in  the 
midst  of  her  pumpkins  pies  to  think  of  us!"  cried 
Harriet.  "Seems  to  me  I  can  see  her  now — that 
bright,  cheerful  face !  She  is  making  the  pumpkin 
pies  for  Thanksgiving." 

This  turned  the  conversation  to  the  subject  of 
Thanksgiving.  And  amid  smiles  and  sighs  they 
talked  over  the  plan  of  keeping  that  sacred  New 
England  festival  here  in  the  far  west.  "But  how 
can  we  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land?" 
quoted  Harriet  amid  a  hush  all  around  the  table. 

In  due  time  the  family  moved  to  the  house  pre 
pared  for  them  at  Walnut  Hills  where  the  Theolog 
ical  Seminary  was  situated.  This  was  about  two 
miles  from  the  center  of  the  city  as  it  was  then,  and 
the  drive  to  and  from  the  church  and  the  markets 
passed  up  hill  and  down  dale  through  the  most 

143 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

lovely  succession  of  undulations,  where  the  velvety 
richness  of  the  turf  and  the  groupings  of  the  grove 
and  forest  made  the  scene,  as  Catherine  said,  noth 
ing  short  of  Arcadian.  The  "straight,  beautiful 
shafts  of  the  trees  as  one  looked  up  the  cool,  green 
recesses  of  the  woods  seemed,"  she  said,  with  a 
flight  of  eloquence  rather  unusual  for  her  practical 
nature,  "as  though  they  might  form  very  proper 
columns  for  a  Dryad  temple."  Over  this  road  the 
Beechers'  little  horse  "Charley"  went  many  times  a 
day,  carrying  messages  and  bringing  supplies. 

There  were  fine  trees  about  the  Seminary  also. 
The  ample  two-story  house  had  a  long  ell  that  ran 
back  into  the  primeval  forest.  To  this  a  classic 
grove  of  superb  foliage  gave  shade  in  summer  and 
protection  from  wind  in  winter.  On  these  wonder 
ful  trees  the  adventurous  little  sister  Isabelle  climbed 
and  swung  on  the  upper  branches  in  the  wind.  A 
dangerous  feat!  We  fancy  that  the  care  of  the 
Beecher  children  did  not  grow  less  as  the  number 
increased,  even  though  the  older  ones  were  all  the 
time  moving  away  and  becoming  dignified  ministers 
of  churches.  Mrs.  Beecher  and  Aunt  Esther,  with 
the  family  of  thirteen,  including  servants,  had  their 
hands  full ;  so  did  Harriet  and  Catherine,  who  were 
going  to  town  every  day  to  look  after  their  school. 
Harriet's  memory  of  the  years  passed  in  Walnut 
Hills  was  of  a  time  full  to  the  brim  of  life  and  ani 
mation.  There  was  an  electric  current  passing 

144 


THE   WESTERN    HOME 

every  moment  through  the  house.  Things  were 
being  done;  thoughts  were  passing  like  wildfire; 
not  for  an  instant  could  there  be  stagnation  in  any 
part  of  the  work.  Everybody  was  carried  along  to 
the  fullest  use  of  his  powers  in  such  a  home  as  that. 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE   FOUNDERS    OF   A    SCHOOL 

WHILE  the  family  were  getting  settled  in  the 
new  home,  Catherine  and  Harriet  were 
making  their  plans  about  their  school.  In 
this  somewhat  formidable  endeavor  the  Beecher 
daughters  were  not  without  rivals.  There  was  al 
ready  an  academy  in  Cincinnati  whose  curriculum 
was  said  to  "embrace  an  extensive  circle  of  female 
education,"  which  included  French,  needlework  and 
penmanship.  I  dare  say  they  also  taught  their  schol 
ars  how  to  depict  tombstones  and  weeping  willows 
in  chenille  and  silk  embroidery,  but  history  does  not 
inform  us  on  this  point.  There  were  also  other 
schools  for  "female  education"  to  the  number  of 
perhaps  fifteen.  But  none  of  these  things  were  al 
lowed  to  discourage  them,  for  this  was  the  land  of 
initiative  and  of  experiment.  Besides,  the  new  in 
stitution  was  to  be  far  superior  to  anything  yet 
dreamed  of. 

Catherine's  scheme  was  indeed  an  ambitious  one. 
It  included  a  young  ladies'  school  for  fifty  or  sixty 

146 


THE    FOUNDERS    OF   A    SCHOOL 

pupils,  with  a  primary  department  for  about  the 
same  number  of  little  girls,  and  also  a  primary 
school  for  little  boys.  These  were  to  be  the  practice 
schools  in  her  scheme  for  the  training  of  teachers, 
exactly  as  we  conduct  our  normal  schools  to-day. 
The  school  work  was  to  be  on  the  basis  of  that  in  a 
college;  and  they  believed  so  thoroughly  in  woman's 
teaching  power,  that  they  thought  instruction  in 
this  country  would  never  be  well  done  until  women 
were  trained  directly  for  that  service.  This  was 
what  these  two  young  educators  intended  to  do — 
to  train  perfect  teachers  for  schools  that  were  sure 
to  arise  and  that  were  already  sadly  needed  all  over 
the  central  west  and,  indeed,  throughout  the  coun 
try.  They  cherished  the  thought  that  women  by 
their  motherly  instincts  and  by  the  qualities  that 
housewifely  lore  and  home-making  and  family  life 
had  fixed  in  the  very  fiber  of  their  being,  would  be 
specially  adapted  to  the  work  of  teachers.  The 
outcome  in  the  next  few  decades  of  our  national 
life  proves  not  only  that  these  two  young  theorists 
were  able  to  look  over  the  whole  situation  in  the 
country  and  to  see  what  was  most  needed  and  the 
best  means  to  attain  the  desired  ends,  but  also  that 
they  were  far-sighted  as  to  what  the  future  was  sure 
to  bring  forth.  For  the  New  England  migration 
was  to  pass  over  the  vast  space  of  the  prairies  of  all 
our  middle  states,  making  possible  everywhere 
schools  in  which  almost  the  whole  burden  of  the 
work  was  to  fall  to  the  hands  of  women.  They  saw 
11  147 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

that  the  gigantic  burden  of  subduing  the  land  was 
to  be  the  special  work  of  men.  It  turned  out  to  be 
so.  They  saw  that  men  of  tact,  versatility,  talent, 
and  piety,  as  Harriet  put  it,  qualities  absolutely  nec 
essary  to  successful  teaching,  would  be  constantly 
called  away  to  missionary  and  ministerial  and  patri 
otic  duties.  If  such  a  man  were  put  to  the  work  of 
teaching,  he  would  be,  said  Harriet  Beecher,  like  a 
'Hercules  with  a  distaff  in  hand  ready  to  spring  at 
the  first  call  of  the  trumpet.  The  question  of  sal 
aries  also  came  in,  for  a  man  must  have  enough  to 
support  wife  and  family.  But  we  can  hardly  real 
ize  how  it  seemed  in  1832  when  two  young  women 
urged  forward  the  idea  that  if  young  women  were 
to  be  well  prepared  for  the  work  of  teaching,  were 
to  be  placed  in  responsible  positions  and  were  to  de 
vote  themselves  to  this  work,  adequate  provision 
really  must  be  made  for  their  support.  Catherine 
spent  a  good  part  of  her  life  and  wrote  chapters  in 
her  books  maintaining  that  side  by  side  with  the 
many  well-endowed  institutions  for  men,  there 
should  be  also  a  well-endowed  provision  for  the 
education  of  women.  Those  days  were  not  so  very 
long  ago;  but  things  have  happened  at  a  wild  rate 
since  then.  Yet  Catherine  Beecher  has  by  no  means 
had  her  meed  of  praise  for  the  work  she  did  in 
training  the  public  mind  toward  the  good  things 
that  we  now  take  for  granted  almost  as  much  as  if 
we  had  had  them  since  the  beginning  of  time.  To 
be  sure,  it  is  not  at  all  certain  that  it  is  the  best  pos- 

148 


THE    FOUNDERS    OF   A    SCHOOL 

sible  scheme  for  an  ideal  country  that  nearly  all 
teaching  in  its  common  schools  should  be  done  by 
women;  but  in  the  transition  of  a  swiftly  expanding 
people  the  great  crisis  was  this :  either  the  work  of 
teaching  had  to  be  done  by  women  or  it  could  not 
be  done  at  all.  In  this  hour  of  need  thousands  of 
women  arose  to  devote  their  lives  to  this  work,  re 
ceiving  in  payment  a  poor  wage,  always  less  than 
would  be  given  to  a  man  for  the  same  work,  and 
in  the  great  majority  of  cases  suffering  the  denial 
of  that  which  is  most  precious  to  the  woman,  the 
home-making  instinct. 

Of  course  it  cannot  be  asserted  that  Catherine 
saw  all  this ;  but  she  felt  the  immediate  need  of  the 
situation.  She  believed  that  a  woman's  nature  was 
adapted  to  the  precious  occupation  of  training  chil 
dren,  and  being  herself  deprived  of  the  place  in  life 
where  her  large,  motherly  nature  could  have  its  full 
fruition,  she  chose  to  aid  her  country  in  that  day  of 
need  by  helping  to  provide  teachers  for  the  swiftly 
forming  schools  all  through  the  middle  states.1  To 
this  work  the  American  girls  of  1830  were  called 
by  the  voice  of  Catherine  Beecher;  aided  by  her 
capable  sister  she  took  in  hand  the  training  of 
women  for  the  work.  They  hoped  to  be  able  soon 
to  say  to  many  hundreds  of  young  women,  "Here  is 

1  See  a  very  interesting  article  by  Benjamin  R.  Andrews, 
Ph.D.,  in  The  Journal  of  Home  Economics  for  June,  1913, 
entitled,  "Miss  Catherine  Beecher,  The  Pioneer  in  Home 
Economics."  Appended  is  a  long  list  of  her  books. 

149 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

a  place  where  you  may  qualify  yourselves  to  be 
first-rate  teachers  and  receive  help  in  finding  a  loca 
tion  in  one  of  the  many  flourishing  towns  and 
villages  of  the  west  where  such  services  are  sorely 
needed." 

In  doing  all  this  for  the  sake  of  the  nation's 
welfare,  Catherine  and  her  sister  were  following 
an  instinct  that  had  been  developed  in  the  great 
body  of  New  England  women  who  shared  with 
their  fathers  and  husbands  and  sons  the  passionate 
interest  in  what  a  late  writer  has  called  its  "ad 
venture  of  democracy."  l  Our  hazardous  experi 
ment  in  putting  national  control  into  the  hands  of 
the  people  was  now  on  trial  before  the  monarchical 
governments  of  the  European  world,  from  which 
our  forefathers  had  run  away  in  order  to  find  a 
place  in  this  wilderness  where  they  might  worship 
in  peace  and  govern  themselves  according  to  their 
own  ideas  of  justice  and  right.  But  the  New 
England  mothers  were  made  to  see  that  they  also 
had  a  part  to  perform  in  the  state.  These  early 
statesmen  said :  "Our  women  must  concur  in  all 
plans  for  education  for  young  men  or  no  laws  will 
ever  render  them  effectual.  To  qualify  our  women 
for  this  purpose  they  should  be  instructed  not  only 
in  the  usual  branches  of  female  education,  but 
should  also  be  taught  the  principles  of  government 
and  liberty,  and  the  obligations  of  patriotism  should 

1  See  Miss  Ida  Tarbell's  essays  on  "The  American  Woman," 
in  The  American  Magazine,  Dec.  1909,  Vol.  69,  p.  206. 

150 


THE    FOUNDERS   OF   A   SCHOOL 

be  inculcated  in  them."  1  Hence  these  early  states 
men  advised  their  wives  to  see  to  it  that  their  sons 
were  instructed  in  the  "divine  science  of  politics." 
These  words  naturally  fired  the  women  with  a  de 
sire  to  fulfill  this  great  ideal  so  that  they  should 
not  be  found  wanting  when  the  republic  called  to 
them  plainly.  But  they  must  be  ready.  They  saw 
that.  To  prepare  them  for  the  task  that  was  theirs 
they  must  do  more  than  the  Spartan  mother  did 
when  she  gave  the  shield  to  her  son,  saying,  "Return 
either  with  it,  or  upon  it !"  They  must  have  some 
thing  more  than  a  haphazard  training  in  the  mere 
rudiments  such  as  had  been  their  part  in  the  country 
school.  It  came  into  the  mind  of  such  women  as 
Emma  Willard  and  Mary  Lyon  to  build  up  schools 
where  the  training  could  be  obtained  that  would 
give  the  women  what  they  needed  in  order  to  fit 
their  sons  for  citizenship  in  the  republic.  And  they 
all  had  the  same  idea.  The  subjects  must  be  ad 
vanced — not  chenille  and  samplers  only — and  the 
teaching  must  be  excellent. 

While  Roxana  Foote  Beecher  was  training  her 
daughter  in  philosophy  and  perspective,  and 
Lucinda  Foote  was  privately  studying  Greek  with 
President  Stiles  of  Yale  College,  Mrs.  Emma  Wil 
lard  was  struggling  to  gain  a  foothold  for  her 
seminary  for  the  daughters  of  well-to-do  families, 
and  Mary  Lyon  was  as  resolutely  pressing  forward 

1  Quoted  by  Miss  Tarbell,  p.  206. 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

her  effort  to  provide  a  school  for  those  who  must 
gain  an  education,  if  at  all,  in  some  more  economical 
way.  Mrs.  Willard's  Female  Seminary  at  Troy 
was  finally  founded  in  1821,  and  Mt.  Holyoke  in 
1837.  But  these  were  only  two  out  of  many.  In 
New  York  State  alone  twelve  academies  for  girls 
were  founded  between  1827  and  1839,  and  in  New 
England  and  also  further  south  the  schools  and 
academies  for  girls  were  multiplying  so  fast  that 
there  was  soon  opportunity  for  nearly  every  valley 
to  offer  some  chance  for  further  culture  than  the 
country  school  afforded  to  the  young  women  of  the 
region. 

The  great  difficulty  lay  in  getting  the  teachers  for 
these  schools;  that  was  what  pressed  most  deeply 
on  the  mind  of  Catherine  Beecher.  They  could  not 
call  upon  men  for  this  work  nor  would  it  be  well 
to  do  so  if  they  could.  "If  men  have  more  knowl 
edge,"  reasoned  Harriet,  "they  have  less  talent  in 
communicating  it,  nor  have  they  the  patience,  the 
long-suffering  and  the  gentleness  necessary  to  super 
intend  the  formation  of  the  child's  character." 
Then  with  a  touch  of  that  passion  for  reform  that 
was  an  essential  part  of  the  Beecher  character  wher 
ever  we  find  it  she  added:  "We  intend  to  make 
these  principles  understood,  and  ourselves  to  set  the 
example  of  what  females  can  do  in  this  way!"  In 
other  words,  she  intended  to  be  the  best  possible 
teacher,  to  be  as  near  to  perfection  as  she  could 
compel  herself  to  be.  That  she  should  make  a 

152 


THE    FOUNDERS    OF   A    SCHOOL 

declaration  like  this  was  not  a  piece  of  self-con 
ceit;  it  was  merely  the  expression  of  her  ideal. 
This  saying  of  Harriet  Beecher  makes  one  think 
of  what  Joan  of  Arc  said  when  she  was  asked  by 
what  charm  or  magic  she  made  the  soldiers  go  into 
battle.  She  simply  answered,  "I  called  to  them  to 
come  on  into  the  battle  and  then  I  went  right  on 
into  the  battle  myself!"  This  is  the  principle  that 
is  at  the  basis  of  all  the  charm  that  lures  human 
beings  into  glorious  heroism;  it  is  the  very  reason 
for  the  existence  of  leaders  and  prophets. 

In  1833,  then,  and  for  some  years  thereafter,  the 
two  sisters  labored  for  the  success  of  the  school 
in  Cincinnati.  Harriet,  with  characteristic  energy, 
threw  herself  into  the  work.  As  the  work  of  the 
school  increased  she  lived  a  life  of  incessant  labor. 
What  she  tried  to  do  was  enough  to  wreck  the 
health  of  the  most  sturdy.  Her  whole  time  was 
absorbed  with  her  efforts  for  the  new  school.  Even 
when  on  Sunday  she  took  advantage  of  the  day  of 
rest  to  lay  aside  her  cares,  the  ill  feelings  that 
disturbed  her  took  away  the  rest  and  filled  the 
hours  with  misery.  She  had  everything  but  good 
health.  She  felt  as  if  she  were  scarcely  alive,  and 
there  was  great  danger  that  the  old  morbid  feel 
ings  would  return.  Again  we  find  her  mind  and 
heart  suffering  from  the  state  of  her  health  and 
physical  ability  threatened  by  excessive  overwork. 

About  this  time  she  was  reading  the  life  of 
Madam  de  Stael  and  "Corinne."  The  work  moved 

153 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

her  intensely.  It  is  interesting  to  see  how  she  ac 
counted  for  the  great  effect  it  had  upon  her  emo 
tions.  She  placed  herself  at  once  in  the  environ 
ment  of  her  nation  and  saw  how  she  herself 
illustrated  a  national  characteristic.  The  effect  of 
republican  government,  she  reasoned,  is  to  demand 
rigid  forms  of  conduct.  The  emotions  thus  con 
stantly  repressed  burn  inwardly  all  the  more.  They 
burn  to  the  very  soul,  leaving  only  dust  and  ashes, 
she  thought.  At  any  rate  this  seemed  to  her  to 
be  the  case  with  herself.  Tired  to  the  bone,  she 
felt  that  her  soul  was  withered  and  exhausted. 
She  wrote  to  Georgiana,  her  beloved  friend,  with 
whom  she  still  shared  all  her  deepest  thoughts: 
"All  that  is  enthusiastic,  all  that  is  impassioned,  in 
admiration  of  nature,  of  writing,  of  character,  in 
devotional  thought  and  emotion,  or  in  the  emotions 
of  affection,  I  have  felt  with  vehement  and  absorb 
ing  intensity,  felt  till  my  mind  is  exhausted,  and 
seems  to  be  sinking  into  deadness.  Half  of  my 
time  I  am  glad  to  remain  in  a  listless  vacancy,  to 
busy  myself  with  trifles,  since  thought  is  pain,  and 
emotion  is  pain/' 

It  is  sad  to  see  this  young  spirit  so  misunder 
standing  itself.  What  Harriet  Beecher  needed  was 
to  run  away  from  those  cares  for  even  a  short  time. 
Just  one  little  breathing  spell,  a  little  freedom  from 
care  and  responsibility  would  have  freshened  her 
and  made  it  possible  for  her  to  carry  on  her  work 
far  more  thoroughly,  though  that  perhaps  could 

154 


THE    FOUNDERS   OF  A   SCHOOL 

hardly  have  been — but  at  any  rate,  with  as  much 
again  of  buoyancy  and  joy.  Now  she  heard  little 
girls  recite  and  told  them  fairy  tales  beginning  in 
the  immemorial  way  with  "once  upon  a  time"  and 
spinning  them  out  as  she  went  along  to  the  utmost 
delectation  of  her  young-hearted  audience;  now 
she  took  up  the  more  serious  subjects  of  history 
and  grammar,  and  the  philosophy  of  taste.  After 
school  hours  she  had  to  attend  the  teachers'  meeting, 
where  such  subjects  as  scattering  the  quill  pens 
and  the  copy-books  on  the  floor,  forming  classes, 
drinking  in  the  entry  (drinking  water,  of  course), 
giving  leave  to  speak,  ringing  the  recess-bell,  and 
such  details  were  solemnly  discussed. 

During  this  time  Dr.  Beecher  was  supplying  the 
pulpit  in  one  of  the  churches  of  Cincinnati.  On 
Sundays  the  pupils  in  the  school  went  to  hear  him 
preach,  and  on  Mondays  they  were  called  together 
to  make  reports  on  the  sermon.  A  devotional 
character  was  given  to  the  meeting  of  this  class; 
it  was  conducted  by  Harriet  and  she  gave  to  the 
service  a  quiet  fervor  that  was  most  beautiful  and 
helpful. 

Very  soon  a  rather  important  piece  of  work  was 
put  into  Harriet's  hands.  The  school  needed  a 
geography  for  the  younger  scholars,  and  Harriet 
was  appointed  to  make  it.  She  went  to  work  and 
produced  a  "New  Geography  for  Children,"  which 
was  published  in  Cincinnati,  and  was  used  not  only 
in  the  Beecher  School,  but  also  in  all  the  primary 

155 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

schools  of  the  city.  Her  geography  was  not  at  all 
like  the  books  of  that  name  that  we  now  use.  It 
belonged  with  the  class  of  instructive  treatises  rep 
resented  by  the  "Present  Condition  of  the  Terra 
queous  Globe,"  written  by  "Jedediah  Morse,  D.D.," 
which  he  "Dedicated  and  Devoted  to  the  Young 
Gentlemen  and  Ladies  of  America  with  the  Most 
Ardent  Wishes  for  Their  Improvement,"  and  which 
was  reprinted  almost  every  year  from  1784  to  1850. 
The  Peter  Parley  and  Malte  Brun  books  belong  in 
the  same  group.  It  was  the  era  of  a  sort  of  pious 
compendium  written  generally  in  the  kindly  letters 
of  a  father  or  an  uncle.  In  one  number  of  the 
Western  Magazine,  a  magazine  published  in  Cin 
cinnati  during  that  time,  there  is  a  scathing  review 
of  several  of  these  small  attempts  at  giving  young 
people  some  knowledge  of  the  world  they  lived  in. 
The  editor  mentions  the  manual  of  Peter  Parley 
and  that  of  Malte  Brun  and  complains  that  these 
would-be  purveyors  of  natural  history  take  liberties 
with  fact.  The  anaconda,  they  informed  the  chil 
dren,  was  so  big  that  it  could  crush  a  house;  the 
buffaloes  of  America  were  domestic  and  harmless. 
"This,"  said  the  editor,  "is  the  way  they  are  teach 
ing  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot,  but  we  should 
call  it  bad  shooting!"  Miss  Beecher  had  no  do 
mestic  buffaloes  and  no  house-crushing  anacondas 
in  her  book,  and  it  seems  to  have  been  clear  enough 
of  inanities  to  displace  that  of  Malte  Brun  in  the 
city's  list  of  school  books  in  1834.  It  was  a  modest 

156 


THE    FOUNDERS    OF   A    SCHOOL 

little  book,  but  it  represented  a  great  deal  of  work. 
She  begins  with  the  simplest  but  clearest  directions 
for  drawing  a  map  of  the  schoolroom  and  then 
leads  up  gradually  to  the  subject  of  the  cape, 
isthmus,  continent,  etc.  There  are  pictures  of  in 
teresting  places,  descriptions  of  the  products  of  the 
countries,  the  manners,  costumes,  religions  and 
laws  of  the  people.  The  book  is  written  like 
a  story,  with  frequent  affectionate  addresses  to  the 
young  learner  and  admonitions  that  are  to  en 
courage  him  on  his  way  where  the  study  seems 
difficult  or  dry.  The  personal  character  of  the 
writer  has  an  opportunity  to  show  itself  in  a  book 
like  this,  and,  if  the  reprint  of  1852  was  a  facsimile 
of  the  original  work,  as  seems  likely,  that  Harriet 
Beecher,  the  teacher  in  the  Cincinnati  school 
in  1833,  m  a  very  earnest  chapter  on  the  sub 
ject  of  slavery,  has  shown  clearly  what  her  opinion 
would  be  when  that  great  subject  should  come  up 
for  discussion.  She  also  clearly  points  out  the  part 
that  the  English  bore  in  the  early  history  of  our 
country  in  forcing  the  system  of  slavery  upon  their 
colonial  subjects  on  this  side  of  the  sea.  She  takes 
good  opportunity  to  urge  the  reasons  why  the  New 
England  forefathers  left  their  native  land  and 
sought  the  inhospitable  shores  of  New  England  and 
speaks  feelingly  of  their  sufferings  in  the  early 
years  of  settlement.  None  of  these  passages  was 
toned  down  when  the  little  book  was  reprinted  in 
England  in  1852  for  the  use  of  the  English  schools. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE   SEMI-COLONS 

SOON  after  the  Beechers  were  settled  at  Cin 
cinnati  the  circle  of  old  New  England  friends 
exiled  together  in  this  western  land  formed 
a  literary  club  that  met  alternately  at  Uncle  Samuel 
Foote's  and  Dr.  Drake's.  They  called  this  society 
the  "Semi-colon  Club,"  and  gave  the  following  ex 
planation  of  the  name:  The  Spanish  name  of 
Columbus  was  Colon;  if  the  discoverer  of  a  con 
tinent  may  be  called  a  "Colon,"  the  discoverers  of 
a  new  pleasure  should  at  least  be  allowed  the  honor 
of  being  called  "Semi-colons."  This  new  pleasure 
consisted  in  the  delight  they  got  out  of  the  inter 
change  of  thought  at  weekly  meetings. 

The  society  of  Semi-colons  grew  out  of  what 
Harriet  called  "Uncle  Sam's  soiree,"  the  social  as 
semblies  that  that  genial  host  gathered  about  him 
in  his  house  on  the  heights.  The  house  where  most 
of  the  meetings  were  held  and  which  should  be 
called  "the  home  of  the  Semi-colon  Club"  was  on 
the  corner  of  Vine  and  Third  Streets.  It  was  a 

158 


THE    SEMI-COLONS 

mansion  with  a  stately  colonnade  of  pillars 
across  the  portico.  In  the  company  that  assembled 
beneath  that  friendly  roof  were  several  that  were 
destined  to  become  known  to  the  world  besides 
Catherine,  Harriet  and  other  members  of  their 
family.  There  were  judges,  generals,  poets,  pro 
fessors,  editors,  and,  as  Harriet  might  have  said, 
some  human  beings!  Salmon  P.  Chase  was  there, 
a  young  man  about  twenty-five  years  old,  after 
wards  the  great  statesman  who  met  Mrs.  Stowe 
at  Washington  and  led  her  into  the  room  where 
Abraham  Lincoln  greeted  and  talked  with  her. 
Mrs.  Caroline  Lee  Hentz  was  one  of  the  company; 
she  had  been  the  author  of  a  poem,  a  play,  and 
a  novel  before  she  was  twelve  years  old,  and  had 
lately  received  from  the  Arch  Street  Theater  in 
Philadelphia  the  five-hundred-dollar  prize  for  her 
play,  "De  Lara,  or  the  Moorish  Bride."  Then 
there  was  Christopher  Pearse  Cranch,  the  poet, 
and  Worthington  Whitridge,  the  artist.  There  was 
Judge  James  Hall,  editor  of  the  Western  Monthly 
Magazine,  author  of  many  letters,  souvenirs,  ad 
dresses,  sketches  and  romances,  who  was  then  in  the 
midst  of  a  long  and  valuable  literary  career.  Dr. 
Daniel  Drake,  a  man  some  forty-five  years  old,  had 
a  national  reputation  in  the  field  of  medical  re 
search.  The  circle  also  included  others  in  various 
fields  of  artistic  activity.  It  is  plain  that  the  meet 
ings  of  a  company  such  as  this  must  have  been  a 
great  incitement  to  the  genius  of  Harriet  Beecher. 

159 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

We  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  the  young  and 
handsome  professor  of  Biblical  history,  Professor 
C.  E.  Stowe,  was  also  a  member  of  the  Club. 

In  natural  reaction  from  the  strenuousness  of 
her  daily  tasks  Harriet  could  not  resist  the  impulse 
to  loosen  the  reins  of  her  whimsical  fancy  at  the 
meetings  and  to  be  the  very  soul  of  merriment  in 
this  intimate  circle.     The  first  thing  she  wrote  as  a 
Semi-colon  was  a  letter  purporting  to  have  come 
from  Bishop  Butler,  composed,  as  Harriet  said  to- 
Georgiana     May,    in    his     "outrageous    style    of 
parenthesis  and  foggification."    Her  next  essay  was 
a  satirical  piece  on  the  modern  uses  of  languages. 
We  can  hardly  imagine  how  this  subject  could  be 
made  interesting,  yet  we  feel  that  we  could  trust 
Harriet   Beecher   to   turn  any   prosy  matter   into- 
mirth.     This  essay  was  so  well  received  by  the 
audience  that  the  editor  of  the  Western  Magazine 
requested  permission  to  publish  it  in  his  magazine. 
Elated  by  this  success,  she  undertook  a  larger  task, 
planning  a  series  of  letters  that  were  to  take  up  a 
number  of  different  subjects.     She  liked  to  write 
in  a  slightly   satirical   manner.     There  had  been 
some  random  talk  in  the  social  hours  of  the  Club 
meetings  on  the  antiquated  jokes  about  old  maids 
and  bachelors.     Harriet  thought  she  would  touch 
upon  this  and  call  for  some  fresh  pleasantries  to 
take  the  place  of  those  worn-out  ones.     She  wrote 
a  list  of  legislative  enactments  solemnly  forbidding 
the  merest  mention  of  the  word  "old  maid"  or 

160 


THE    SEMI-COLONS 

"bachelor"  in  the  future  and  forever  more.  This 
was  indeed  a  playing  with  fire,  but  the  letters  made 
no  hard  feelings,  as  there  was  a  courteous  spirit 
beneath  the  satire. 

She  followed  this  with  an  attempt  at  more  serious 
writing,  though  here  again  her  passion  for  fun 
made  her  resort  to  the  device  of  a  practical  joke. 
Putting  what  she  had  to  say  this  time  into  the 
form  of  letters,  she  carried  out  her  idea  with  a 
wealth  of  incident  and  of  particulars  that  made  the 
letters  give  the  feeling  of  a  group  of  real  people. 
The  letters  appeared  to  be  written  from  a  house  in 
the  country,  where  the  hosts  and  their  guests  were 
pious,  literary,  and  agreeable.  By  having  the  letters 
come  apparently  from  different  people  who  showed 
their  various  characteristics,  the  author  had  the 
opportunity  to  bring  in  different  points  of  view 
and  a  lively  interchange  of  ideas. 

We  can  see  how  her  story-making  sense  was 
developing.  In  these  letters  she  was  taking  a  hint 
from  a  certain  plan  which  the  Beecher  family  had 
been  making  use  of  since  the  members  had  been 
so  widely  scattered.  They  sent  a  circular  letter 
around  from  one  member  of  the  family  to  another, 
each  adding  a  letter  to  the  collection  that  came  to 
him,  until  all  had  read  it.  In  this  circular  letter 
the  different  characteristics  of  the  family  were 
brought  into  a  pleasant  contrast,  just  as  Harriet 
planned  to  bring  them  out  in  the  imaginary  family 
that  she  created.  The  first  one  of  this  series  she 

161 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

surrounded  with  particulars  intended  to  carry  out 
the  deception.  Her  one  idea  at  this  time  seems  to 
have  been  to  conceal  her  budding  tendency  toward 
authorship,  and  yet  she  could  not  resist  the  fer 
tility  of  invention  and  the  pleasure  it  gave  her. 
When  she  had  finished  the  letter  she  smoked  it  to 
turn  it  yellow  and  tore  the  edges  to  give  it  the 
look  of  age;  she  wrote  and  re-wrote  the  direction, 
imitated  a  postmark  by  means  of  smears  of  ink, 
sealed  the  letter  with  wax  and  then  broke  the  seal 
open  again,  all  in  order  to  give  the  letter  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  really  old  letter.  Then  she  put  it 
into  another  envelope  on  which  she  placed  the  ad 
dress  in  different  hand-writing  and  directed  it  to 
"Mrs.  Samuel  E.  Foote."  At  the  same  time  she 
sent  another  letter  to  her  cousin  directing  her  to  be 
on  the  lookout  for  the  coming  of  a  letter  and  to 
aid  her  in  the  deception.  The  family,  including 
even  that  wary  and  clever  Uncle  Samuel,  were 
taken  in  by  the  joke.  The  erased  names  and  dates 
were  deciphered  and  the  whole  epistle  was  subjected 
to  criticism,  but  it  was  believed  in  as  a  real  letter. 
So  much  for  Harriet's  practical  joke. 

It  is  a  little  difficult  to  understand  why  this 
young  author  should  have  surrounded  with  so  much 
mystery  her  earliest  attempts  in  the  work  that  was 
to  become  the  business  of  her  life.  She  seems  to 
have  had  a  strange  sense  of  shrinking  from  publicity 
as  though  there  were  perhaps  a  lack  of  dignity 
about  the  appearance  of  one's  name  in  print.  How 

162 


THE    SEMI-COLONS 

little  idea  she  had  even  by  this  time  of  her  own 
powers  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  her  first  published 
piece  was,  quite  to  Harriet's  satisfaction,  attributed 
to  Catherine.  In  fact  she  said  that  she  did  not 
know  that  she  would  have  let  it  go  if  it  had  been 
assigned  to  its  own  author.  She  had  no  idea,  she 
said,  of  appearing  in  propria  persona.  However, 
when  the  potent  charm  that  lies  in  literary  expression 
had  once  taken  a  firm  hold  of  her  genius  those  false 
scruples  faded  away;  and  we  cannot  believe  that 
it  was  not  a  source  of  intense  pleasure  to  her  when 
she  won  the  prize  offered  by  the  editor  of  the 
Western  Monthly  Magazine  for  the  best  story. 
This  story  appeared  in  the  number  for  April,  1834, 
under  the  heading  "The  Prize  Tale,"  with  the 
modest  sub-title  "A  New  England  Sketch."  Her 
story  was  as  different  from  the  other  articles  in 
the  magazine  as  black  is  from  white.  The  contents 
of  this  heavy  periodical  consisted  as  a  general  thing 
of  essays  on  the  antiquities  of  America,  the  Indians 
and  their  customs,  didactic  tales  related  in  trotting 
tetrameters,  or  perhaps  a  long-winded  story  of  im 
possible  adventure  and  sentiment  in  the  Charles 
Brockton  Brown  manner.  Harriet  Beecher's  racy 
description  of  New  England  characteristics,  the 
realness  of  the  scenes,  the  actuality  of  the  people, 
the  easy  simple  flow  of  the  discourse,  the  conver 
sational  quality  of  the  language  that  the  speakers 
used,  the  clever  management  of  the  incidents  were 
all  totally  unknown  to  the  readers  of  the  magazine. 
12  163 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

It  must  have  been  like  a  sudden  invitation  to  a 
feast  of  good  nourishing  food  to  those  who  had 
been  living  for  a  long  time  upon  chaff.  The  story 
was  welcomed  with  intense  delight. 

It  is  not  remarkable  that  the  heart  of  this  young 
writer,  who  was  still  homesick  enough  to  find  it 
impossible  to  sing  any  kind  of  a  song  in  the  strange 
land,  should  turn  for  its  inspiration  to  the  old  New 
England  home.  This  is  the  way  she  began : 

"And  so  I  am  to  write  a  story/'  she  said,  "but 
of  what  and  where?  Shall  it  be  radiant  with  the 
sky  of  Italy  or  eloquent  with  the  beau  ideal  of 
Greece?  Shall  it  breathe  odor  and  languor  from 
the  Orient,  or  chivalry  of  the  Occident ;  gaiety  from 
France,  or  vigor  from  England  ?  No,  no ;  these  are 
all  too  old,  too  romance-like,  too  obviously  pic 
turesque  for  me.  No,  let  me  turn  to  my  own  land — 
to  my  own  New  England;  the  land  of  bright  fires 
and  strong  hearts;  the  land  of  deeds  and  not  of 
words;  the  land  of  fruits  and  not  of  flowers;  the 
land  often  spoken  against  yet  always  respected ;  'the 
latchet  of  whose  shoes  the  nations  of  the  earth' 
are  not  worthy  to  unloose.' ' 

Having  relieved  her  mind  by  this  outburst  of 
emotion,  she  apologizes  for  the  bit  of  rodomontade, 
as  she  calls  it,  and  proceeds  to  describe  the  Con 
necticut  town  that  she  was  to  picture  under  so  many 
different  names  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of 
her  career — the  beloved  Litchfield-in-the-Hills, 
called  in  this  story  Newbury  in  New  England.  It 

164 


THE    SEMI-COLONS 

rested  in  a  green  little  hollow  wedged  in  like  a 
bird's  nest  among  the  high  hills  that  kept  off  the 
wind  in  winter  and  kept  out  foreigners.  Here  life 
was  so  perfect  that  the  people  never  died,  but  only 
kept  growing  old  till  they  could  not  grow  any  older 
and  then  they  stood  still  and  lasted  from  genera 
tion  to  generation.  The  houses  in  this  village  were 
red,  brown,  or  yellow,  and  the  people  that  lived 
there  all  had  Biblical  names.  They  did  all  the 
things  they  ought  to  do,  lived  in  neighborly  charity 
with  one  another,  read  their  Bibles,  feared  God, 
and  were  content  with  such  things  as  they  had 
which  the  author  said  is  the  best  philosophy  after 
all.  We  are  told  that  the  hero  is  Master  James 
Benton;  the  chief  person  in  the  story,  however,  is 
James's  old  uncle,  who  afterwards  gave  a  title  to 
the  story,  "Uncle  Tim."  Timothy  Benton  was  a 
character  photographed  directly  from  life;  he  was 
suggested  by  Harriet's  own  Uncle  Lot  Benton  of 
New  Haven,  who  was  celebrated  for  that  very  con- 
trariousness  that  is  the  queerness  and  the  chief 
charm  of  the  uncle  in  the  story,  who  was  just  like 
a  chestnut  burr,  briars  without  but  substantial  good 
ness  within.  The  following  incident  from  the  story 
will  illustrate  this : 

"  'Uncle  Tim,  father  wants  to  know  if  you  will 
lend  him  your  hoe  to-day?'  "  says  a  little  boy,  mak 
ing  his  way  across  the  corn-field. 

"  'Why  don't  your  father  use  his  own  hoe?' 

"  'Ours  is  broke.' 

165 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

"'Broke!    How  came  it  broke?' 

"  'I  broke  it  yesterday  trying  to  hit  a  squirrel.' 
1  'What  business  had  you  to  be  hittin'  squirrels 
with  a  hoe  ?' 

"  'But  father  wants  to  borrow  yours/ 

"  'Why  don't  he  have  that  mended  ?  It's  a  great 
pester  to  have  everybody  usin'  a  body's  things/ 

"  'Well,  I  can  borrow  one  somewheres  else,  I  sup 
pose/  "  says  the  suppliant.  After  the  boy  has 
stumbled  across  the  ploughed  ground  and  is  fairly 
over  the  fence  Uncle  Tim  calls: 

"  'Halloo  there,  you  little  rascal !  What  are  you 
goin'  off  without  the  hoe  for?' 

"  'I  didn't  know  as  you  meant  to  lend  it.' 

'  'I  didn't  say  I  wouldn't,  did  I  ?  Here,  come  and 
take  it — stay,  I'll  bring  it;  and  do  tell  your  father 
not  to  be  a-letting  you  hunt  squirrels  with  his  hoes 
next  time.'  " 

Another  time  Uncle  Tim's  daughter,  Grace,  wants 
two  candlesticks  for  her  party.  After  long  dallying 
and  much  coaxing  and  palavering  he  stumps  off 
to  the  village  store  and  brings  back  a  package.  He 
hands  Grace  one  candlestick.  Grace  says: 

"  'But  father,  I  wanted  two/ 

"  'Why,  can't  you  make  one  do  ?' 

"  'No,  I  can't;  I  must  have  two/ 

"  'Well,  then,  there's  t'other' — taking  the  second 
candlestick  out  of  his  pocket,  and  adding,  'and 
here's  a  fol-de-rol  for  you  to  tie  round  your  neck/  ' 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  that  when  the  young 
166 


THE    SEMI-COLONS 

James  wishes  to  get  into  the  good  graces  of  this 
prickly  old  gentleman  he  will  have  a  hard  time. 
Uncle  Tim  did  not  "  'see  why  the  boys  need  to  be 
all  the  time  a-coming  to  see  Grace,  for  she  was 
nothing  extraordinary  after  all.' '  In  this  opinion 
Master  James  did  not  at  all  concur;  he  thought 
Grace  the  most  wonderful  girl  in  the  world,  and  he 
had  an  idea  in  regard  to  her  that  he  was  determined 
to  carry  out.  Moreover,  he  was  of  the  joyous, 
buoyant  variety  of  youth  who  cannot  see  why  their 
plans  should  fail.  We  understand  perfectly  who 
stood  as  model  for  this  earnest,  clean,  optimistic, 
merry-hearted  young  man.  Harriet  could  not  have 
had  any  one  in  her  mind  but  the  brother  that  she  had 
so  loved  and  worshiped  ever  since  the  days  when 
she  led  him  by  the  hand  down  to  the  Dame  School. 

"  'Why,  James,'  said   his    companion   and   chief 
counselor,  'do  you  think  Grace  likes  you?' 

"  'I  don't  know,'  said  our  hero  with  a  comfortable 
appearance  of  certainty. 

"  'But  you  can't  get  her,  James,  if  Uncle  Tim  is 
cross  about  it.' 

"  'Fudge !     I  can  make  Uncle  Tim  like  me  if  I 
have  a  mind  to  try.' 

"  'Well,  then,  Jim,  you'll  have  to  give  up  that 
flute  of  yours,  I  tell  you,  now/ 

"  'Fa,  sol,  la — I  can  make  him  like  me,  and  my 
flute,  too.' 

"  'Why,  how  will  you  work  it?' 

"  'Oh,  I'll  work  it,'  said  our  hero. 
167 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

"  'Well,  Jim,  I  tell  you  now,  you  don't  know 
Uncle  Tim  if  you  say  so,  for  he's  just  the  settest 
critter  in  his  way  that  you  ever  saw/ 

"  'I  do  know  Uncle  Tim  though,  better  than  most 
folks ;  he  is  no  more  cross  than  I  am ;  and  as  to  his 
being  set,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  make  him 
think  he  is  in  his  own  way  when  he  is  in  yours — 
that  is  all.' 

"  'Well,'  said  the  other,  'but  you  see  I  don't 
believe  it.' 

"  'And  I'll  bet  you  a  gray  squirrel  that  I'll  go 
there  this  very  evening,  and  get  him  to  like  me  and 
my  flute  both,'  said  James." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  clever  Jim  carried 
this  out  to  the  letter.  He  went  there  that  evening; 
he  drove  Uncle  Tim's  sheep  out  of  the  garden, 
praised  the  old  man's  bell-flower  apples,  told  stories 
at  the  table,  proved  that  it  was  not  irreverent  to 
use  the  flute  even  in  church,  and  made  Uncle  Tim 
admit  it;  in  short  he  made  himself  here,  as  every 
where,  the  great  favorite.  The  story  turns  out  as 
it  should,  and  the  Uncle  is  filled  with  joy  at  the 
outcome. 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  first  real  story  that 
Harriet  Beecher  wrote.  It  was  a  simple  little  story, 
but  it  gave  promise  of  the  abilities  that  she  later 
showed  not  only  in  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  but  in 
the  long  series  of  even  more  artistic,  if  not  more 
influential,  works  in  which  she  has  enshrined  for 

168 


THE    SEMI-COLONS 

us  the  fading  memories  of  old  New  England  tradi 
tions  and  customs. 

Perhaps  when  we  see  the  lively  quality  of  this 
story,  and  of  other  sketches  of  this  period  of  Harriet 
Beecher's  life,  we  may  wonder  what  has  happened 
to  her,  and  may  exclaim  how  she  has  changed  from 
the  profound  theological  discussions  of  the  Litch- 
field  days!  Is  this  romantic  and  blithesome  spirit 
the  same  one  that  shivered  and  was  so  stoical  in 
the  dullness  of  the  Litchfield  Hills!  How  shall 
we  account  for  it? 

Well,  she  has  come  out  into  the  great  boundless 
west  whose  free  spirit  has  set  her  free — that  is  one 
way  to  account  for  the  change.  Then,  those  earlier 
studies  and  tastes  may  be  considered  as  her  attempts 
to  find  her  way  in  the  philosophies  of  the  human 
mind,  a  struggle  from  which  she  gradually  desisted 
after  she  had  hit  upon  a  practical  and  satisfying 
view  of  her  own,  which  by  showing  her  how  to 
discharge  each  day's  duty,  fulfilled  her  needs.  We 
must  recall,  too,  who  were  her  favorites  among  the 
few  great  romantic  writers  that  she  was  able  to 
find  in  her  father's  sermon-barrels.  "The  Arabian 
Nights,"  "Don  Quixote,"  and  above  all,  Sir  Walter 
Scott  were  her  great  discoveries  in  Dr.  Beecher's 
garret.  We  must  remember  how  well  she  loved 
Byron  and  how  many  times  she  read  "Ivanhoe" 
through  in  one  summer!  Thinking  of  all  this,  we 
realize  how  she  was  being  prepared  to  use  the  novel 
as  the  best  expression  for  her  thought  when  the 

169 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

time  should  come  when  she  felt  she  must  speak 
out  something  God  had  given  to  her  to  say. 

Meantime  she  wrote  many  little  sketches  and 
stories  and  sent  them  to  various  magazines :  the 
Western  Monthly,  the  New  York  Independent,  the 
Godey's  Ladies'  Book,  printed  them  and  paid  for 
them.  In  this  way  her  training  in  the  art  of  com 
posing  a  story  was  going  on  steadily. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
MRS.   STOWE  THE   HOME-MAKER 

IN  January,  1836,  Harriet  Beecher  and  Calvin 
Edward  Stowe  were  quietly  married.  A  few 
days  later  they  took  a  brief  wedding  journey, 
going  by  stage  as  far  as  Columbus;  but  the  roads 
in  an  Ohio  midwinter  were  not  much  to  boast  of, 
and,  as  a  pleasant  journey,  the  trip  was  not  a  suc 
cess.  They  were  happier  when  they  returned  to 
their  own  fireside  and  sat  down  there  peacefully 
together.  Mrs.  Stowe  was  rather  astonished  to 
find  that  such  a  "wisp  of  nerve"  as  herself  could 
pass  through  the  wedding  experience  with  a  happi 
ness  that  was  tranquil  and  serene  rather  than  over 
whelming. 

If  she  had  been  able  to  look  into  the  future, 
however,  she  must  have  been  appalled  by  the  view. 
The  darkest  period  of  her  life  was  before  her, 
a  time  to  try  the  stoutest  soul,  a  stretch  of  fourteen 
years  of  struggle  with  narrowing  means  and  in 
creasing  cares.  The  Seminary  that  her  father  had 
come  into  the  west  to  found,  and  in  which  Pro- 

171 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

fessor  Stowe  was  the  chief  pillar  of  scholarship,  did 
not  for  various  reasons  unconnected  with  either  of 
these  noble  self-sacrificing  men,  increase  in  size 
and  financial  support  as  they  had  hoped  it  would. 
Students  became  fewer  and  salaries  more  and  more 
meager.  At  last  Professor  Stowe,  convinced  that 
he  could  no  longer  carry  the  forlorn  hope  of  that 
western  work  with  any  justice  to  his  family,  ac 
cepted  one  of  several  offers  that  came  to  him  to 
enter  upon  more  advantageous  professional  work 
in  the  east  and  removed  to  Bowdoin  College,  his 
own  alma  mater,  in  Brunswick,  Maine. 

In  this  period,  then,  between  her  marriage  in 
1836  and  the  removal  to  Maine  in  January,  1850, 
we  see  our  brave  little  woman  putting  up  the  stiffest 
kind  of  fight  against  the  most  disheartening  odds. 
Under  household  conditions  that  grew  less  and 
less  encouraging  for  the  housekeeper,  she  toiled  on. 
Sickness  visited  various  members  of  the  family  and 
the  burdens  grew  heavier  than  the  little  mother  was 
able  to  bear.  Her  knowledge  was  deepening,  and 
her  heart  was  enlarging,  but  her  strength  was  too 
sorely  tired.  Her  struggle  was  tragic;  it  is  sad 
to  reflect  upon,  but  it  is  also  inspiring !  Many  who 
read  the  pathetic  record  of  these  years  of  privation 
and  suffering  will  lose  sight  of  the  great  author 
in  their  sympathetic  interest  in  the  woman,  the 
wife,  and  the  mother;  through  her  heroism  and 
sweetness  and  nobility  of  character  during  this 
crucial  time  she  is  endeared  to  us  as  no  fame  and 

172 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

glory  could  ever  endear  her.  Her  entry  into  the 
profession  of  literature  came  through  the  welcome 
prospect  of  a  "douceur  that  might  eke  out  a  do 
mestic  accommodation."  Her  literary  training  was 
gained  when  she  was  "a  young  mother  and  house 
keeper  in  the  first  years  of  her  novitiate,  amid  alter 
nate  demands  from  an  ever  dissolving  'kitchen 
cabinet'  and  from  the  two,  three  and  four  occupants 
of  her  nursery/'  And  if  she  had  not  been  what 
Sam  Lawson  would  call  "one  of  these  'ere  facultized 
persons,"  she  never  could  have  accomplished  the 
prodigies  of  work  that  came  from  her  hands. 

During  these  years  of  poverty  in  Cincinnati  six 
children  came  to  add  their  cares  and  their  loves  to 
Mrs.  Stowe's  life.  First  twin  daughters  arrived 
and  were  named  Eliza  Taylor  and  Harriet  Beecher. 
Two  years  later  Henry  Ellis  was  born.  Then  came 
Frederick  William,  named  for  the  Prussian  King 
for  whom  his  father  had  a  great  admiration. 
Georgiana  May  followed  and  Samuel  Charles  was 
the  next.  This,  omitting  the  last  little  one  whose 
life  was  sacrificed  in  the  cholera  epidemic,  made  the 
circle  of  five  who  went  with  the  little  mother  when 
she  preceded  her  husband  to  the  new  home  in 
Maine.  Soon  after  her  arrival  there  her  seventh 
child  was  born  and  was  named  Charles  Edward. 
This  son  survived  to  write  in  two  noble  transcrip 
tions  the  chronicles  of  her  happy  and  her  tragic 
experiences. 

Her  children  were  the  very  heart  of  her  life. 

173 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

"When  I  can  stop  and  think  long  enough  to  dis 
criminate  my  head  from  my  heels,  I  must  say," 
she  said,  "that  I  think  myself  fortunate  in  both 
husband  and  children.  My  children  I  would  not 
change  for  all  the  ease,  leisure  and  pleasure  I  could 
have  without  them."  To  Mrs.  Stowe  motherhood 
was  literally  a  religion.  She  knew  in  her  heart 
what  the  love  of  a  mother  could  be,  and  she  said, 
"God  invented  mothers'  hearts,  and  He  certainly 
has  the  pattern  in  His  own."  So  she  found  within 
herself  a  proof  of  the  love  of  God,  a  beautiful  path 
to  spiritual  attainment  that  is  open  to  every  woman 
that  learns  in  any  way  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  a  mother's  love. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  a  hard  working  woman,  con 
stantly  beset  by  trials  of  housekeeping  and  home- 
making.  Her  husband  was  rich  in  Greek  and 
Hebrew  and  Latin  and  Arabic,  and,  alas!  rich  in 
nothing  else.  But  then,  she  said,  she  was  abundantly 
enriched  with  wealth  of  another  sort — meaning  the 
children  from  the  curly-headed  twin  daughters 
down.  She  considered  that  her  first  and  best  mis 
sion  lay  in  this  circle;  and  she  maintained  that  to 
feel  the  importance  of  order  and  system  and  to 
carry  it  out  through  the  family  requires  very  much 
the  same  kind  of  talent  which  a  good  prime  minister 
needs.  She  was  the  kind  of  housekeeper  that  she 
has  shown  us  in  the  Aunt  Betsey  of  "The  May 
flower,"  who  was  "the  neatest  and  most  efficient 
piece  of  human  machinery  that  ever  operated  in 

174 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

forty  places  at  once.     She  was  always  everywhere, 
supervising  everything." 

Mrs.  Stowe's  dowry  consisted  of  eleven  dollars' 
worth  of  china.  That  served  her  for  two  years. 
But  when  her  brother,  Edward,  with  his  bride,  came 
to  visit  her,  she  found  that  she  could  not  set  the 
table  with  the  plates  and  tea-cups  she  possessed.  So 
she  bought  an  additional  set  for  ten  dollars,  and  this 
supply  lasted  her  for  many  years.  Mrs.  Stowe 
seems  to  have  inherited  all  the  cleverness  of  her 
mother,  Roxana,  in  making  and  making  over,  in 
fitting  and  polishing  up  all  sorts  of  things  for 
the  household.  While  she  was  getting  settled  in 
Maine  she  wrote  to  a  sister,  "Mrs.  Mitchell  and 
myself  made  two  sofas  and  lounges,  a  barrel  chair, 
divers  bedspreads,  pillow-cases,  pillows,  bolsters  and 
mattresses;  we  painted  rooms;  we  revarnished  fur 
niture;  we — what  didn't  we  do?"  l  She  could  nail 
a  carpet  in  the  corner  and  tack  gimp  on  to  mended 
furniture;  she  could  make  a  loose  screw  firm,  and, 
I  am  certain,  drive  in  a  nail  without  hitting  her 
fingers.  While  she  was  as  feminine  as  any  woman 
that  ever  lived,  she  had  the  simple  practical  effi 
gy  a  queer  freak  of  circumstance,  this  account  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's  life  is  now  being  written  on  the  very  table  that 
adorned  her  parlor  at  Walnut  Hills.  It  is  a  beautiful  piece 
of  rosewood  and  mahogany  veneer,  in  a  quaint  old  pattern 
which  is  now  so  rare  as  to  be  highly  valued  by  collectors.  It 
must  have  been  one  of  her  household  treasures.  Together 
with  the  rest  of  her  furniture,  it  was  sold  when  the  family 
moved  to  Maine. 

175 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

ciency  that  is — or  was — supposed  to  be  charac 
teristically  masculine.  She  could  lay  the  cloth  on 
the  floor  and  cut  out  a  dress  for  herself  without  any 
pattern;  "I  guess  I  know  my  own  shape/'  she  said 
to  one  who  caught  her  doing  this.  She  made  her 
husband's  coats  and  her  own  shoes.  In  the  days 
when  the  congress  gaiters  were  in  fashion,  she 
made  very  pretty  ones  for  herself,  fitting  them 
nicely;  she  was  an  excellent  cobbler  and  could  cut 
the  leather  soles  and  nail  on  the  heel  with  perfect 
art,  and  when  she  found  the  elastic  on  the  sides 
difficult  to  set  in  she  invented  a  way  of  lacing  the 
shoe  up  behind,  thus  overcoming  the  trouble  and 
giving  a  dainty  and  trim  effect  to  the  foot-gear. 

In  the  winter  of  1839  the  Belle  Riviere  was 
choked  up  with  ice ;  provisions  could  not  be  brought 
in  and  a  famine  was  threatened ;  consequently  there 
was  a  stiff  rise  in  prices.  Coarse  salt  was  three 
dollars  a  bushel,  rice  was  eighteen  cents  a  pound, 
coffee  was  fifty  cents  a  pound,  white  sugar  the  same ; 
brown  sugar  was  twenty  cents  a  pound,  molasses 
was  one  dollar  a  gallon  and  potatoes  were  one  dollar 
a  bushel.  What  was  to  be  done?  They  simply 
did  without  these  things.  For  months  the  diet 
consisted  of  bread  and  bacon,  and  happy  they  were 
to  get  that ! 

In  spite  of  her  blithe  resistance,  Mrs.  Stowe's 
health  for  a  time  gave  way  entirely,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  go  to  a  water-cure  in  Vermont.  Her 
sister  Catherine  was  there  at  the  same  time  and 

176 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

for  much  the  same  reason;  so  the  two  sisters 
had  many  hours  of  communion,  and,  no  doubt,  some 
fun.  While  she  was  there  Harriet's  husband,  who 
was  rather  inclined  to  look  on  the  dark  side,  wrote 
her  a  most  melancholy  letter.  She  answered  that 
she  wished  he  could  be  with  her  at  Brattleboro  to 
coast  down  hill  on  a  sled,  or  go  sliding  and  snow 
balling  by  moonlight.  "I  would  snowball  every  bit 
of  the  hypo  out  of  you,"  she  said.  Then  to  amuse 
him  she  copied  a  poem  that  Kate  had  just  been 
writing  on  the  cheerful  subject  of  tombstones.  It 
was  accompanied  by  two  pictures  of  tombstones 
they  had  drawn.  On  one  was  inscribed  "Eheu  me 
miser  urn  =  Hie  jacket"  and  over  the  stone  on  the 
branch  of  a  tree  was  hung — a  jacket !  The  poem,  in 
two  cantos,  was  written,  she  said,  for  the  edification 
of  certain  dolorous  individuals  in  the  Semi-colon. 

CANTO  I 

In  the  Kingdom   of  Mortin 
I  had  the  good  fortin 
To  find  these  verses 
On  tombs  and  on  hearses, 
Which  I,  being  jinglish, 
Have    done    into    English. 

CANTO  II 

The  man  that's  so  colickish 
When  his  friends  are  all  frolickish 
As  to  turn  up  their  noses 
And  to  turn  on  their  toeses 
Shall  have  only  verses 
On  tombstones  and  hearses. 
177 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

The  letter  closes  with  an  exhortation  to  him  to 
be  patient  and  bear  trouble  as  if  it  were  the  tooth 
ache  or  a  driving  rain  or  anything  else  that  one 
cannot  escape — which  is  good  sound  advice. 

Her  own  power  to  put  this  advice  into  practice 
and  to  control  her  moods  of  depression  is  shown 
in  a  letter  she  once  wrote  to  him  when  he  was 
away  in  search  of  health. 

"It  is  a  dark,  sloppy,  rainy,  muddy,  disagreeable 
day,  and  I  have  been  working  hard  all  day  in  the 
kitchen,  washing  dishes,  looking  into  closets,  and 
seeing  a  great  deal  of  that  dark  side  of  domestic 
life  which  a  housekeeper  may  who  will  investigate 
after  a  girl  who  keeps  all  clean  on  the  outside  of 
cup  and  platter,  and  is  very  apt  to  make  good  the 
rest  of  the  text  in  the  inside  of  things.  ...  I 
am  sick  of  the  smell  of  sour  milk,  and  sour  meats, 
and  sour  everything;  and  then  the  clothes  will  not 
dry,  and  no  wet  thing  does,  and  everything  smells 
mouldy;  and  altogether  I  feel  as  if  I  never  wanted 
to  eat  again."  After  enlarging  upon  her  troubles 
further  in  the  same  whimsical  vein,  she  added 
gravely,  "Yet  do  I  rejoice  in  my  God,  and  know 
in  whom  I  have  believed,  and  only  pray  that  the 
fire  may  consume  the  dross;  as  to  the  gold,  that  is 
imperishable.  No  real  evil  can  come  to  me,  so  I 
fear  nothing  for  the  future,  and  only  suffer  in 
the  present  tense.  God,  the  mighty  God,  is  mine, 
of  that  I  am  sure,  and  I  know  that  He  knows  that 
though  heart  and  flesh  fail,  I  am  all  the  while  de- 

178 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

siring  and  trying  for  His  will  alone."  As  to  money, 
for  which  there  was  imminent  necessity,  she  said: 
"Money,  I  suppose,  is  as  plenty  with  Him  now 
as  it  always  has  been,  and  if  He  sees  it  is  really 
best,  He  will  doubtless  help  me."  At  one  time  her 
husband  wrote  that  he  was  sick  a-bed  and  all  but 
dead ;  he  did  not  ever  expect  to  see  his  family  again ; 
wanted  to  know  how  she  would  manage  in  case 
she  was  left  a  widow;  he  knew  she  would  get  into 
debt  and  never  get  out ;  he  wondered  at  her  courage, 
thought  she  was  very  sanguine,  warned  her  to  be 
prudent,  as  there  would  not  be  much  to  live  on  in 
case  of  death,  etc.,  etc.  This  letter  Mrs.  Stowe 
read  and  poked  into  the  fire.  Then  she  proceeded 
with  her  writing.  "You  are  not  able  just  now  to 
bear  anything,  my  dear  husband,"  she  replied; 
"therefore,  trust  all  to  me;  I  never  doubt  or  despair. 
I  am  already  making  arrangements  to  raise  money." 

Now,  how  was  the  little  woman  to  "raise  money"  ? 
Of  course  by  writing.  Certain  of  her  friends,  pity 
ing  her  trials,  copied  and  sent  a  number  of  her 
sketches  to  some  liberally  paying  Annuals  with  her 
name.  With  the  money  earned  in  this  way  she 
bought  a  feather-bed!  This  was  considered  a 
profitable  investment,  and  if  the  Shakespearean 
fashion  of  mentioning  a  treasured  bed  in  the  codicil 
of  a  will  were  to  be  followed,  it  might  be  suggested 
that  here  would  be  found  the  article  most  deserving 
of  mention  as  an  heirloom  in  successive  testaments ! 

After  this  Mrs.  Stowe  thought  that  she  had  dis- 
13  179 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

covered  the  philosopher's  stone!  So  when  a  new 
carpet  or  mattress  was  going  to  be  needed  or  when 
at  the  close  of  the  year  it  began  to  be  evident  that 
her  accounts,  like  Dora's,  "wouldn't  add  up,"  she 
used  to  say  to  her  faithful  friend  and  factotum, 
the  governess,  who  shared  all  her  joys  and  sorrows, 
"Now,  Anna,  if  you  will  keep  the  babies  and  attend 
to  the  house  for  one  day,  I  will  write  a  piece  and 
then  we  shall  be  out  of  the  scrape."  She  began  to 
make  overtures  to  various  editors.  She  wrote  her 
husband:  "I  have  sent  some  pieces  to  W.  If  he 
accepts  them  and  pays  you  for  them,  take  the  money 
and  use  it  as  you  see  necessary;  if  not,  be  sure  to 
send  the  pieces  back  to  me.  I  am  strong  in  spirit; 
and  God,  who  has  been  with  me  in  so  many  straits, 
will  not  desert  me  now.  I  know  Him  well ;  He  is 
my  Father,  and  though  I  may  be  a  blind  and  erring 
child,  He  will  help  me  for  all  that.  My  trust 
through  all  errors  and  sins  is  in  Him.  He  will 
help  us,  and  His  arms  are  about  us,  so  we  shall  not 
sink,  my  dear  husband." 

Her  early  successes  filled  the  heart  of  Professor 
Stowe  with  pride  and  with  the  desire  that  she 
should  adopt  a  literary  career.  It  was  so  written, 
he  declared,  in  the  book  of  fate,  and  she  should 
make  all  her  calculations  accordingly.  She  must 
get  a  good  stock  of  health  and  brush  up  her  mind. 
She  should  drop  the  "E"  out  of  her  name  because 
it  only  encumbered  the  name  and  interfered  with  its 
flow  and  harmony.  "Harriet  Beecher  Stowe"  it 

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MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

should  be,  a  name  euphonious  and  flowing  and  full 
of  meaning.  "Then  my  word  for  it,"  he  said  en 
thusiastically,  "your  husband  will  lift  up  his  head 
in  the  gate,  and  your  children  will  rise  up  and  call 
you  blessed." 

Of  the  tremendous  odds  under  which  Mrs.  Stowe 
for  a  time  pursued  her  literary  labors,  her  sister 
Catherine  gives  an  amusing  account.  Harriet  had 
promised  that  she  would  get  at  a  certain  story  when 
the  house-cleaning  was  done  and  when  baby's  teeth 
were  through !  Catherine  said  that  the  house-clean 
ing  could  be  deferred  one  day  longer  and  as  to 
baby's  teeth,  she  did  not  see  that  there  would  ever 
be  any  end  to  them;  she  must  have  the  manuscript 
that  day,  she  said,  for  she  had  promised  it  to  the 
editor.  "Come,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "in  three  hours 
you  can  finish  the  courtship,  marriage,  catastrophe, 
and  all,  and  this  three  hours  of  your  brains  will 
earn  enough  to  pay  for  all  the  sewing  your  fingers 
can  do  for  a  year  to  come.  Two  dollars  a  page, 
my  dear,  and  you  can  write  a  page  in  fifteen 
minutes!"  But  Harriet  called  her  sister's  atten 
tion  to  the  fact  that  there  was  a  baby  in  her  arms 
and  two  pussies  by  her  side,  a  great  baking  in  the 
kitchen  to  be  done,  and  a  green  girl  to  help — it  was 
clearly  out  of  the  question  for  that  day  at  least. 
Catherine  would  not  take  "no"  for  an  answer. 

"'No,  no;  let  us  have  another  trial.  You  can 
dictate  as  easily  as  you  can  write.  Come,  I  can 
set  the  baby  in  this  clothes-basket  and  give  him  some 

181 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

mischief  or  other  to  keep  him  quiet;  you  shall  dic 
tate  and  I  will  write.  Now  this  is  the  place  where 
you  left  off;  you  were  describing  the  scene  between 
Ellen  and  her  lover;  the  last  sentence  was,  ''Borne 
down  by  the  tide  of  agony,  she  leaned  her  head  on 
her  hands,  the  tears  streamed  through  her  fingers, 
and  her  whole  frame  shook  with  convulsive  sobs." 
What  shall  I  write  next?' 

"  'Mina,  put  a  little  milk  into  this  pearlash/  said 
Harriet. 

"  'Come/  said  I.  '  "The  tears  streamed  through 
her  fingers  and  her  whole  frame  shook  with  con 
vulsive  sobs/'  What  next?' 

"Harriet  paused  and  looked  musingly  out  of  the 
window  as  she  turned  her  mind  to  her  story.  'You 
may  write  now/  she  said,  and  she  dictated  as  fol 
lows: 

"  '  "Her  lover  wept  with  her,  nor  dared  he  again 
to  touch  the  point  so  sacredly  guarded."  Mina, 
roll  that  crust  a  little  thinner!  "He  spoke  in  sooth 
ing  tones."  Mina,  poke  the  coals  in  the  oven.' 

"  'Here/  said  I ;  'let  me  direct  Mina  about  these 
matters,  and  write  a  while  yourself.' 

"Harriet  took  the  pen  and  patiently  set  herself 
to  the  work.  For  a  while  my  culinary  knowledge 
and  skill  were  proof  to  all  Mina's  investigating  in 
quiries,  and  they  did  not  fail  till  I  saw  two  pages 
completed. 

"  'You  have  done  bravely/  said  I  as  I  read  over 
182 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

the  manuscript ;  'now  you  must  direct  Mina  a  while. 
Meantime  dictate  and  I  will  write/ 

"Never  was  there  a  more  docile  literary  lady  than 
Harriet.  Without  a  word  of  objection  she  followed 
my  request. 

"  'I  am  ready  to  write/  said  I.  'The  last  sen 
tence  was :  "What  is  this  life  to  one  who  has 
suffered  as  I  have?"  What  next?' 

"  'Shall  I  put  in  the  brown  or  white  bread  first?' 
said  Mina. 

"  The  brown  first/  said  Harriet. 

"  '  "What  is  this  life  to  one  who  has  suffered 
as  I  have  ?"  '  said  I. 

"Harriet  brushed  the  flour  off  her  apron  and 
sat  down  for  a  moment  in  a  muse.  Then  she 
dictated  as  follows: 

"  '  "Under  the  breaking  of  my  heart  I  have  borne 
up.  I  have  borne  up  under  all  that  tries  a  woman — 
but  this  thought — oh,  Henry !" 

"  'Ma'am,  shall  I  put  ginger  into  this  pumpkin?' 
queried  Mina. 

"  'No,  you  may  let  that  alone  just  now/  replied 
Harriet.  She  then  proceeded: 

"  '  "I  know  my  duty  to  my  children.  I  see  the 
hour  must  come.  You  must  take  them,  Henry; 
they  are  my  last  earthly  comfort." 

"  'Ma'am,  what  shall  I  do  with  these  egg  shells 
and  all  this  truck  here?'  interrupted  Mina. 

"  Tut  them  in  the  pail  by  you/  answered  Harriet. 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

"  '  "They  are  my  last  earthly  comfort,"  '  said  I. 
'What  next?' 

"She  continued  to  dictate: 

"  '  "You  must  take  them  away.  It  may  be — per 
haps  it  must  be — that  I  shall  soon  follow,  but  the 
breaking  heart  of  a  wife  still  pleads,  'a  little  longer, 
a  little  longer.'  "  ' 

"  'How  much  longer  must  the  gingerbread  stay 
in?'  inquired  Mina. 

"  'Five  minutes/  said  Harriet. 

"  '  "A  little  longer,  a  little  longer,"  '  I  repeated  in 
a  dolorous  tone,  and  we  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"Thus  we  went  on,  cooking,  writing,  nursing  and 
laughing  till  I  finally  accomplished  my  object.  The 
piece  was  finished,  copied,  and  the  next  day  sent  to 
the  editor." 

Some  writer  of  to-day  has  complained  that  this 
tale  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  habit  of  writing  with  the 
bread  board  in  her  lap  had  a  great  influence  for 
harm  on  later  writers  in  that  it  seems  to  furnish 
proof  that  a  woman  who  is  compelled  to  combine 
housekeeping  and  writing  can  do  the  writing  any 
time  and  anywhere,  right  amid  the  business  of  the 
kitchen.  This,  of  course,  Mrs.  Stowe  would  have 
been  the  first  to  deny.  In  fact,  when  it  was  found 
that  she  could  write  acceptably,  and  her  husband 
said  she  was  born  for  that  work  and  must  fulfill 
her  destiny,  she  sent  this  appeal  to  him:  "If  I  am 
to  write  I  must  have  a  room  to  myself  which  shall 
be  my  room.  I  have,  in  my  own  mind,  pitched  on 

184 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

Mrs.  W.'s  room.  I  can  put  the  stove  in  it.  I  have 
bought  a  cheap  carpet  for  it  ...  and  I  only 
beg  in  addition  that  you  will  let  me  change  the 
glass  door  from  the  nursery  into  that  room  and 
keep  my  plants  there,  and  then  I  shall  be  quite 
happy.  All  last  winter  I  felt  the  need  of  some 
place  where  I  could  go  and  be  quiet  and  satisfied. 
.  .  .  We  can  eat  by  our  cooking-stove  and  the 
children  can  be  washed  and  dressed  and  keep  their 
playthings  in  the  room  above.  .  .  .  You  can 
study  by  the  parlor  fire,  and  I  and  my  plants,  etc., 
will  take  the  other  room.  I  shall  take  my  work  and 
all  my  things  there,  and  feel  settled  and  quiet." 
That  she  should  feel  so  was  absolutely  necessary 
if  she  was  to  do  any  real  work  in  writing.  Her 
husband  was  most  responsive.  He  wrote  in  reply : 
"And  now,  my  dear  wife,  I  want  you  to  come 
home  as  quick  as  you  can.  The  fact  is  that  I  can 
not  live  without  you,  and  if  we  were  not  so 
prodigious  poor  I  would  come  for  you  at  once. 
There  is  no  woman  like  you  in  this  wide  world. 
Who  else  has  so  much  talent  with  so  little  self- 
conceit;  so  much  reputation  with  so  little  affecta 
tion;  so  much  literature  with  so  little  nonsense;  so 
much  enterprise  with  so  little  extravagance;  so 
much  tongue  with  so  little  scold;  so  much  sweet 
ness  with  so  little  softness;  so  much  of  so  many 
things  and  so  little  of  so  many  other  things?" 

In  answer  to   this   beautiful   love-making   Mrs. 
Stowe  could  say:     "If  you  were  not  already  my 

185 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

dearly-loved  husband  I  should  certainly  fall  in  love 
with  you."  And  we  do  not  wonder! 

Thus  far  we  have  seen  the  heroine  of  this  life 
story  tried  and  disciplined  by  toil  and  narrowed 
means;  but  the  light  of  love  has  been  about  her  and 
her  faith  and  her  buoyancy  of  spirit  have  not  failed. 
How  will  it  be  if  a  great  sorrow  comes,  one  that 
bereaves  her  of  one  of  her  greatest  treasures?  It 
seems  that  while  she  had  the  children  about  her 
she  felt  that  all  losses  were  turned  into  blessings. 
In  January,  1849,  sne  writes  to  her  friend 
Georgiana  May  to  tell  her  that  for  six  months 
after  she  came  home  from  the  water-cure  she  had 
had  neuralgia  in  the  eyes  so  that  she  could  not 
have  any  daylight  in  the  room,  and  that  she  had 
been  so  burdened  and  loaded  with  cares  as  to  drain 
her  dry  of  all  capacity  of  thought,  feeling  or 
memory ;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  that  she  cried  out  with 
the  greatest  buoyancy,  "Well,  Georgy,  I  am  thirty- 
six  years  old!  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  like  to  grow 
old  and  have  six  children  and  cares  endless.  I  wish 
you  could  see  me  with  my  flock  all  around  me. 
They  sum  up  my  cares,  and  were  they  gone  I 
should  ask  myself,  What  now  remains  to  be  done? 
They  are  my  work,  over  which  I  fear  and  tremble." 

The  words  seemed  almost  like  a  premonition 
of  what  was  to  come  to  her  in  the  desolate  summer 
of  1849.  A  malignant  epidemic  of  cholera  broke 
out  in  the  city  and  spread  alarmingly.  One  hun 
dred  and  twenty  deaths  occurred  sometimes  on 

1 86 


MRS.    STOWE    THE    HOME-MAKER 

one  day.  The  Seminary  was  turned  into  a  hospital 
for  the  care  of  the  sick  students.  The  gloom  and 
sorrow  of  the  time  had  to  be  borne  by  her  alone, 
for  Professor  Stowe  was  himself  at  this  time  at 
Brattleboro  on  account  of  the  failure  of  his  own 
health.  At  last  her  own  children  were  attacked 
and,  after  a  period  of  acute  suspense,  little  Samuel 
Charles  succumbed  to  the  disease.  Broken-hearted 
over  this  crushing  sorrow,  Mrs.  Stowe  could  yet 
give  loving  sympathy  to  those  around  her  who 
were  suffering  as  she.  "I  write  as  if  there  were 
no  sorrow  like  my  sorrow,"  she  said  to  her  hus 
band,  "yet  there  has  been  in  this  city  .  .  . 
scarce  a  house  without  its  dead.  This  heart-break, 
this  anguish,  has  been  everywhere,  and  where  it 
will  end  God  only  knows."  It  was  her  only  prayer 
to  God  that  such  anguish  as  hers  might  not  be 
suffered  in  vain.  She  felt  that  she  never  could 
be  consoled  unless  the  crushing  of  her  own  heart 
might  enable  her  to  work  out  some  great  good  to 
others.  This  deep  prayer  was  to  be  fulfilled  in  a 
way  of  which  she  had  not  yet  dreamed. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
UNCONSCIOUS    PREPARATION    FOR    A    WORK 

WHEN  Mrs.  Stowe  was  teaching  in  the  Hart 
ford  School  she  was  not  without  pupils 
that  were  full  of  mischief.  One  of  these, 
being  very  fond  of  animals  and  bugs  of  all  kinds, 
used  to  bring  her  favorites  and  install  them  in  the 
desk,  shutting  down  the  wide  cover  as  a  door  to 
their  prison  until  she  should  get  a  chance  to  show 
them  to  her  best-loved  teacher,  Miss  Harriet 
Beecher,  who  could  look  unappalled  into  the  desk 
with  its  nests  of  spiders  or  its  families  of  toads, 
for  there  was  not  a  creature  that  God  could  create 
that  Harriet  did  not  love.  Nearly  every  novel  that 
she  ever  wrote  includes  in  its  characters  some 
favorite  dog  or  cat;  they  were  characters,  too,  for 
they  were  as  different  and  as  individual  as  people. 
Then  there  is  her  book  called  "Queer  Little  People," 
where  she  tells  tales  about  the  Nutcracker  family 
of  Nutcracker  Lodge,  about  Tip-top,  Toddy,  and 
Speckle  of  the  Robin  family,  about  that  fascinating 
Hum,  son  of  Buz,  the  humming-bird  that  was 

1 88 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

blown  in  at  the  window  on  a  chilly  day  at  the  sea 
shore,  about  the  Squirrels  that  lived  in  a  house, 
about  the  Mrs.  Magpie  that  put  on  such  airs  and 
could  not  be  cut,  and  about  all  the  congregation 
of  Carlos  and  Rovers  and  Princes,  including  the 
wonderful  high-bred  Giglio  who  was  destined  to  an 
early  demise,  and  the  aristocratic  Italian  dog 
Florence  who  as  they  were  one  day  riding  along 
through  the  streets  of  Rome  barked  a  familiar 
greeting  to  the  Pope.  Aunt  Esther's  wonderful 
power  in  telling  stories  about  animals,  nineteen  in 
a  row  on  rats  only,  seems  to  have  been  handed  down 
to  her  clever  niece. 

Well,  this  mischievous  pupil  at  Hartford  had 
one  morning  only  one  small  katydid  in  her  desk. 
It  was  very  interesting  in  its  fine  dress  of  green 
and  silver,  with  wings  of  point  lace  from  Mother 
Nature's  finest  web.  It  perked  itself  and  stood 
up  airily  as  if  it  knew  that  it  was  about  to  be  im 
mortalized  in  a  human  story.  Harriet's  fancy  saw 
the  possibilities.  She  said  to  the  student,  "You 
write  a  story  about  it." 

"I?  Write  a  story?  I  couldn't  do  it  for  my 
life." 

"Yes,  you  can.  Come;  you  write  one  and  I  will 
write  one,  too;  then  we  will  read  them  to  each 
other." 

Harriet  wrote  that  story  and  the  copy  of  it  in 
her  own  hand  is  to-day  one  of  the  treasures  of 
that  same  pupil.  The  tale  was  also  published 

189 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

later  in  "Queer  Little  People."  Strangely  enough 
this  story  may  serve  to  prove  what  Harriet  Beecher 
Stowe's  feeling  was  even  in  her  early  life  on  the 
great  matter  that  she  made  the  theme  of  her  great 
est  book. 

The  story  is  this :  Miss  Katydid  consulted  her 
cousin,  the  gallant  Colonel  Katydid,  about  the  in 
vitations  to  a  grand  party  that  she  wanted  to  give. 
She  was  to  ask  only  the  higher  circles,  the  Fireflies, 
of  course,  and  the  Butterflies;  also  the  Moths,  even 
though  they  were  rather  dull  people,  indelicately 
ate  up  ermine  capes  and  got  indigestion  thereby. 
Then  they  must  have  that  worthy  family,  the  Bees, 
of  course;  the  Bumblebees,  too,  who  were  so  dash 
ing  and  brilliant ;  the  spiteful  Hornets,  just  because 
they  were  so  spiteful  and  must  not  be  offended, 
and  the  plebeian  Mosquitoes  since  they  were  be 
coming  literary  and  had  very  sharp  pens,  and — the 
Crickets — should  they  be  asked?  The  Locusts, 
of  course,  a  very  old  and  distinguished  family,  and 
the  Grasshoppers,  though  they  were  not  of  much 
account,  but  the  Crickets — no !  One  must  draw  the 
line  somewhere. 

"I  thought  they  were  nice,  respectable  people," 
said  Colonel  Katydid. 

"O  yes — very  good  people.  But  you  must  see  the 
difficulty." 

"My  dear  cousin,  I  am  afraid  you  must  ex 
plain." 

"Why,  their  color,  to  be  sure.  Don't  you  see?" 
190 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?  Excuse  me,  but  I  have  been 
living  in  France  where  these  distinctions  are  wholly 
unknown,  and  I  have  not  yet  got  myself  in  the 
train  of  fashionable  ideas  here." 

"Well,  then,  let  me  teach  you.  You  know  we 
republicans  go  for  no  distinctions  except  those 
created  by  Nature  herself,  and  we  found  our  rank 
upon  color,  because  it  is  clearly  a  thing  that  none 
has  any  hand  in  but  our  Maker.  You  see?" 

"Yes,  but  who  decides  what  shall  be  the  reigning 
color?" 

"I'm  surprised  to  hear  the  question.  The  only 
true  color — the  only  proper  one — is  our  color,  to  be 
sure.  A  lovely  pea-green  is  the  precise  shade  on 
which  to  found  aristocratic  distinction.  .  .  . 
Society  would  become  dreadfully  mixed  if  it  were 
not  fortunately  ordered  that  the  Crickets  are  as 
black  as  jet.  The  fact  is  that  a  class  to  be  looked 
down  upon  is  necessary  to  all  elegant  society,  and 
if  the  Crickets  were  not  black,  we  could  not  keep 
them  down,  because,  as  everybody  knows,  they  are 
often  cleverer  than  we.  .  .  .  Their  being  black 
is  a  convenience,  because,  as  long  as  we  are  green 
and  they  black,  we  have  a  superiority  that  never 
can  be  taken  from  us.  Don't  you  see  now  ?" 

The  Colonel  saw.  The  party  was  held;  the 
Crickets,  being  very  musical,  were  asked  to  play 
for  the  dancing  and  came  in  concourses  to  do  so. 
The  ball  went  on  until  daybreak,  so  that  it  seemed 
that  every  leaf  in  the  forest  was  alive.  In 

191 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

fact  those  dissipated  Katydids  kept  up  this  sort  of 
thing  till  Parson  To-whit  preached  against  it  and 
even  till  the  celebrated  Jack  Frost  epidemic  oc 
curred  in  the  month  of  September. 

Plainly  Harriet  had  made  up  her  mind  that  color 
was  never  a  fit  basis  for  social  distinctions.  One 
could,  perhaps,  even  further  back  in  her  life,  find 
sources  for  the  conviction  that  to  hold  any  person 
in  a  subject  state  because  of  the  color  of  his  skin 
was  the  greatest  injustice.  She  had  in  Litchfield 
heard  her  father  preach  sermons  on  the  subject  of 
slavery  and  offer  prayers  for  the  slaves  that  had 
made  her  heart  throb  and  ache.  And  when  her 
Aunt  Mary,  spoken  of  in  an  earlier  chapter,  came 
from  San  Domingo  and  told  of  the  sufferings  of 
slaves  as  she  had  witnessed  them  there,  her  feeling 
was  deepened  and  intensified. 

As  early  as  1837  Catherine  Beecher  published  a 
small  book  called  "An  Essay  on  Slavery  and 
Abolitionism  with  Reference  to  the  Duty  of  Amer 
ican  Females."  It  was  written  in  answer  to  a  move 
ment  to  induce  women  to  join  the  Abolition  So 
ciety.  She  opposed  this  movement  strongly.  She 
agreed  with  the  members  of  the  society  in  thinking 
slavery  an  evil,  but  she  was  most  disinclined  to  any 
radical  measures  against  it.  Indeed  she  spent  most 
of  her  time  in  criticizing  the  unwise  and  hasty 
measures  of  the  abolitionists,  their  undue  urgency 
and  sledgehammer  methods. 

Sister  Catherine,  however,  showed  some  fore- 
192 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

sight  when  she  said,  "It  is  my  full  conviction  that 
if  insurrection  does  burst  forth,  and  there  be  the 
least  prospect  to  the  cause  of  the  slave,  there  will 
be  men  from  the  North  and  West,1  standing  breast 
to  breast,  with  murderous  weapons,  in  opposing 
ranks."  She  counseled  calm,  rational  Christian  dis 
cussion  as  the  only  proper  method  of  securing  the 
ends  of  safety  and  peace.  It  seems  that  Catherine, 
with  all  her  acumen,  did  not  in  the  least  realize 
that  this  was  to  be  a  case  where  benignity,  urbanity, 
meekness  and  benevolence  would  not  serve;  and 
while  she  touches  the  idea  of  a  possible  "standing 
breast  to  breast  with  murderous  weapons  in  op 
posing  ranks,"  the  very  fact  that  she  can  speak  of 
it  so  calmly  shows  that  it  is  now  a  matter  of  rhetoric 
with  her  rather  than  of  shuddering  prophecy.  In 
her  serene  unconsciousness  that  the  forces  of  war 
were  even  then  forming,  Catherine  Beecher  was 
not  by  any  means  alone.  Almost  to  the  last  minute 
many,  or  perhaps  most,  of  our  great  statesmen  did 
not  in  the  least  imagine  that  sections  of  a  people 
speaking  one  language,  consecrated  in  their  close 
relationship  by  like  struggles  in  the  past  and  united 
by  like  ideals  and  hopes  for  the  future,  could  be 
separated  by  the  sword  over  a  mere  difference  of 
opinion  as  to  the  matter  of  holding  slaves.  We 
must  try  to  remember  that  no  one  was  really  aware 
of  this  beforehand  or  we  shall  fail  to  understand 

*By  west,  she  meant  what  was  then  to  her  the  southwest, 
Kentucky,   Missouri,   etc.,  practically,  the   south. 

193 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

why  the  formation  of  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe's 
thought  on  this  subject  was  so  gradual.  No  doubt 
she  was  influenced  by  such  a  statement  of  views  as 
her  sister  made  in  her  book;  as  a  result  of  this, 
and  perhaps  of  other  influences  of  like  kind,  she 
was  for  years  trying  to  keep  the  subject  of  slavery 
as  much  as  possible  out  of  her  mind.  To  her  it  was 
a  horror  in  a  distant  part  of  the  world  that  she 
could  do  nothing  to  mitigate,  and  if  she  should  let 
her  mind  dwell  upon  it,  she  would  be  unable  to 
do  the  duties  that  lay  at  hand.  It  seemed  a  subject 
"too  painful  to  inquire  into,  and  one  that  advancing 
light  and  civilization  would  live  down."  * 

Meantime  she  was  being  quietly  prepared  in  one 
corner  of  the  world  for  a  fit  and  not  inconspicuous 
part  in  the  thrilling  drama  of  emancipation.  She 
seems  to  have  had  a  real  human  interest  in  the 
negroes  as  the  expression  of  a  certain  individual 
and  racial  character.  Nearly  every  novel  she  wrote 
had  first  or  last  a  negro  character.  These  dusky 
people  of  her  imaginary  world  if  placed  by  them 
selves  would  form  a  collection  of  highly  individual 
ized  portraits,  all  taken  from  her  picture  gallery  of 
actual  memories.  At  Easthampton,  Dr.  Beecher 
had  preached  to  an  adjacent  colony  of  colored 
people  and  when  the  family  moved  to  Litchfield 
"one  Dinah"  and  "one  Zillah"  came  with  the 
caravan  and  formed  a  very  necessary  part  of  the 

"See  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  Chap.  XLV. 
194 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

household  at  the  parsonage.  There  were  always 
colored  servants  to  help  about  the  work  in  the  big 
Beecher  home.  One  of  these,  whose  name  was 
Candace,  a  portly  old  black  washerwoman,  would 
sometimes  take  the  little  Harriet  aside  and  tell  her 
with  tears  about  the  saintly  virtues  of  her  departed 
mother.  When  Harriet  visited  her  aristocratic 
relatives  in  Guilford  and  was  taught  the  catechism 
by  her  Aunt  Harriet,  black  Dinah,  along  with 
Harry,  the  bound  boy,  ranged  at  a  respectful  dis 
tance  behind  her,  was  taught  also.  "Dine"  was 
a  great  friend  of  Harriet's;  they  had  many  frolics 
together  and  the  black  playmate  told  the  little  girl 
many  stories  and  made  herself  very  interesting. 

When  the  Beechers  came  to  live  in  Litchfield  they 
found  colored  people  still  living  there  who  had  been 
born  slaves.  "Old  Grimes,"  famous  in  song  and 
story,  was  a  Litchfieldian  slave;  his  character  was 
sufficiently  notorious  for  his  death  to  be  chronicled 
in  the  affecting  lines : 

Old  Grimes  is  dead,  that  good  old  soul, 

We  ne'er  shall  see  him  more; 
He  used  to  wear  an  old  blue  coat 

All  buttoned  down  before. 

This  happened  in  the  early  days,  but  we  would  fain 
believe  that  the  song  was  a  favorite  by  the  Par 
sonage  fireplace. 

The     Beechers     considered     their     dark-skinned 
household  helpers  as  members  of  the  family,  and 
14  195 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

absent  children  invariably  included  them  when  they 
sent  messages  of  affection  back  to  the  home. 
When  the  Beecher  party  were  pausing  in  New  York 
on  their  way  to  Ohio,  the  faithful  Zillah  came  to 
call  upon  them;  Harriet  said  that  she  was  quite 
unchanged,  her  voice  soft  as  ever,  as  she  told  them 
that  she  was  now  in  very  comfortable  circumstances. 
Harriet  said  that  she  would  be  glad  if  she  were 
quite  sure  to  fill  up  her  chink  in  this  mortal  life 
as  well  as  Zillah  did! 

All  of  these  negroes  were  the  descendants  of  the 
slaves  of  an  earlier  period,  long  since  freed,  who 
had  lived  for  many  generations  on  terms  of  equal 
ity  and  industrial  exchange  among  gentle,  high 
born  people.  Harriet  had  known  and  met  them  on 
terms  of  mutual  respect.  It  would  have  been  in 
conceivable  to  her  to  enter  into  relations  as  owner 
and  slave  with  that  companionable  "Dine"  or  that 
soft-voiced,  ladylike  Zillah. 

As  a  result  of  her  experience,  she  approached  the 
slave  question  not  as  a  mere  theorist.  It  is  evident 
that  it  cannot  with  truth  be  said  that  her  study  of 
it  dated  from  the  time  of  her  settlement  in  Cin 
cinnati;  but  it  is  certain  that  when  she  did  come 
to  live  in  Ohio,  further  opportunities  were  given 
her  to  know  the  conditions  in  her  own  country  in 
regard  to  this  matter.  In  New  England  she  had 
been  in  a  land  of  theories  of  human  freedom;  now 
she  was  to  come  into  contact  with  facts;  she  was 


PREPARATION    FOR    A   WORK 

to  have  her  heart  bleed  for  the  human  misery  and 
oppression  which  she  saw. 

The  Belle  Riviere  was  the  dividing  line  between 
slave  country  and  free  country,  Kentucky  on  the 
south  being  a  slave  state  and  Ohio  on  the  north 
being  ardently  anti-slavery.  And  after  the  move 
ment  for  freeing  the  slaves  began,  there  was 
formed  an  "underground  railroad" — that  is,  a 
series  of  farmhouses  and  homes  that  served  as 
stations,  at  convenient  distances  from  each  other, 
where  friendly  people  lived  with  whom  the  es 
caping  slaves  could  find  shelter,  from  Cincinnati 
all  across  the  state  to  Canada.  By  this  means  any 
fugitive  could  be  taken  by  night  on  horseback  or 
in  a  covered  wagon  from  station  to  station,  until 
he  passed  beyond  the  Canadian  boundaries  where 
he  was  under  the  protection  of  the  British  power. 

It  is  evident  that  there  was  at  that  time  scarcely 
a  spot  in  the  United  States  where  the  excitement 
and  irritation  of  the  slavery  agitation  ran  so  high. 
People  in  Cincinnati  had  "property"  (consisting 
of  slaves)  over  the  line  in  Kentucky  and  people 
in  Kentucky  were  seeking  their  "property"  that 
was  running  off  to  Ohio. 

Negroes  were  negotiable  currency;  they  were 
collateral  security  on  half  the  contracts  that  were 
at  that  time  being  made  between  the  thriving  men 
of  Cincinnati  and  the  planters  of  the  adjoining 
slave  states.  It  was  natural  that  when  the  struc 
ture  of  business  included  this  kind  of  property  and 

197 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

no  one  was  willing  to  open  the  case  of  the  rightful- 
ness  of  keeping  possession  in  that  form  at  all,  the 
excitement  of  the  discussion  should  rise  to  a  great 
pitch.  It  did  reach  such  a  height  at  last  that  there 
were  mobs  in  the  streets  and  danger  to  the  lives 
of  all  about  the  city  and  the  region. 

Meantime  Mrs.  Stowe's  family  were  pursuing 
the  even  tenor  of  their  way  in  the  Walnut  Hills 
suburb.  Her  husband  was  busied  with  Biblical  ex 
egeses,  and  she  was  giving  her  attention  chiefly 
to  pinafores  and  dishwashing;  but  each  of  them 
took  the  liveliest  interest  in  what  was  going  on. 
Mrs.  Stowe's  brother  Henry  was  one  of  the  edi 
tors  of  the  Cincinnati  Journal  and  he  took  a  great 
part  in  the  activities  of  the  hour;  Mrs.  Stowe  also 
did  some  writing  for  his  paper.  Yet  all  this  is 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  period  in  her  life  when, 
as  she  afterward  said,  she  was  trying  her  best 
not  to  think  of  the  workings  of  slavery  at  all,  be 
cause  she  did  not  see  what  could  be  done  about  it 
and  could  not  bear  to  think  about  a  wrong  that 
she  could  do  nothing  to  prevent! 

Meantime  the  circle  of  friends  about  Mrs.  Stowe 
must  have  thrashed  out  the  whole  subject,  trying, 
as  were  many  people  elsewhere,  to  decide  what 
was  the  right  course  to  pursue.  Good  people  felt 
that  something  ought  to  be  done  but  were  divided 
as  to  what  was  the  wisest  step  to  take  first.  There 
were  extremists  on  both  sides  and  many  angry 
differences  of  opinion.  Mrs.  Stowe  thought  that 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

no  one  could  have  the  system  of  slavery  brought 
home  to  him  without  an  irrepressible  desire  to  do 
something;  but  what  was  there  to  be  done? 

For  a  time  she,  with  many  others,  believed  that 
the  solution  must  lie  in  some  intermediate  position, 
in  some  scheme  like  the  proposal  of  the  Coloniza 
tion  Society  to  send  the  negroes  back  to  Africa, 
or  perhaps  in  some  segregation  plan.  That  a  civil 
war  could  be  the  outcome  of  the  disagreement  was 
not  imagined. 

Among  the  students  in  the  Theological  Seminary 
was  a  young  enthusiast  named  Theodore  Weld 
who,  in  a  lecturing  tour  through  the  southern 
states,  had  seen  much  of  slavery  and  slave  owners, 
and  who,  as  a  result,  held  the  strongest  views 
against  the  system,  which  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
declare.  He  had  converted  to  his  views  Mr.  J.  G. 
Birney,  of  Huntsville,  Alabama,  who  then  pro 
ceeded  to  free  his  slaves  and  become  an  ardent 
supporter  of  the  doctrine.  Together  with  Dr. 
Bailey  of  Cincinnati  he  founded  a  paper  called  The 
Philanthropist.  His  strong  anti-slavery  utterances 
in  this  paper  aroused  much  question  in  that  city  in 
the  summer  and  fall  of  1836. 

As  matters  grew  more  serious  the  excitement  in 
creased.  The  printing  establishment  was  mobbed 
and  when  Mrs.  Stowe  saw  her  brother  Henry  put 
ting  pistols  in  order,  declaring,  with  set  face,  that 
he  stood  ready  to  fight  if  need  be,  she  could  see 
how  critical  was  the  time.  The  mobs  even  threat- 

199 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

ened  the  houses  of  all  that  professed  abolition  senti 
ments  and  there  was  danger  that  the  Theological 
Seminary  might  be  attacked.  From  her  home  at 
Walnut  Hills,  Mrs.  Stowe  could  see  the  light  of 
the  burning  houses  upon  the  sky  for  many  nights. 
What  was  right  to  think  or  do,  she  could  not  see, 
but  whatever  the  outcome  was  she  thought  that 
the  rule  of  mob  was  wrong.  While  she  believed 
the  cause  was  a  just  one,  she  deplored  the  excesses 
of  the  excited  people.  As  for  herself,  she  was  not 
afraid.  They  were  protected,  she  said  afterward 
in  her  funny  way,  by  the  distance  of  the  Seminary 
from  the  city  and  by  the  providential  depth  and  ad 
hesiveness  of  the  Cincinnati  mud.  She  was,  how 
ever,  excited,  indignant,  and  thoroughly  aroused. 
She  hoped  that  Mr.  Birney  would  stand  his  ground 
in  his  fireproof  building  and  assert  his  rights.  If 
she  were  a  man,  she  cried,  she  would  go  and  she 
believed  she  could  take  good  care  of  at  least  one 
window. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Stowe  had  gained  some  prac 
tical  knowledge  of  what  the  slavery  system  really 
meant.  When  she  had  been  but  one  year  in  Cin 
cinnati  she  had  gone  with  friends  to  visit  a  plan 
tation  across  the  river.  Here  she  had  seen  a  happy 
prosperous  slave  life,  under  owners  that  seemed  to 
be  the  sincere  well-wishers  of  the  negroes  who 
served  them.  There  was  little  to  shock  or  distress 
her  in  what  she  saw.  Most  of  the  day  she  moved 
about  as  one  in  a  dream.  She  sat  apart,  heeding 

200 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

not  the  antics  and  gambols  of  the  little  darkies. 
But  we  know  that  the  scenes  she  saw  that  day  were 
unconsciously  laid  up  in  her  memory  to  be  recalled 
when  the  building  of  the  book  had  come  into  her 
mind  and  she  needed  the  material  for  her  great 
purpose.  Years  afterward,  when  the  friend  who 
accompanied  her  on  that  Kentucky  visit  read  the 
account  of  the  doings  on  the  Shelby  Farm  as  Mrs. 
Stowe  depicted  them  in  the  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin," 
she  saw  in  the  description  an  exact  correspondence 
to  the  events  of  that  day  as  she  remembered  them. 
Here  was,  then,  a  picture  of  the  slave  system  at 
its  best.  Perhaps  her  gravity  and  absorption  dur 
ing  the  picnic  merriment  of  the  day  was  caused  by 
the  thought  that  the  owners  of  the  happy  plantation 
had  it  in  their  power  to  separate  any  husband  and 
father  there  from  his  family  or  any  little  girl  from 
her  mother,  and,  if  he  needed  the  money,  sell  them 
to  slave  traders  who  would  carry  them  "down  the 
river"  to  be  lost  to  their  own  forever.  Of  what 
such  a  fate  might  mean  Mrs.  Stowe  learned  from 
her  brother  Charles,  who  acted  for  some  months  as 
collecting  agent  for  a  New  Orleans  commission 
house.  On  one  of  the  trips  up  the  Red  River  he 
had  come  upon  a  plantation  where  the  slaves  were 
treated  with  a  brutality  almost  indescribable.  Of 
this  he  tried  to  draw  a  faithful  picture  in  his  next 
letter  to  his  sister,  and  she  had  thus  placed  in  her 
storehouse  another  chapter  for  the  book  she  was 
unconsciously  preparing  to  write.  Almost  incredi- 

2OI 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

ble  as  it  may  seem,  the  Legree  plantation  was, 
therefore,  a  scene  taken  directly  from  life.  In  an 
other  letter  Charles  Beecher  told  how  from  the  deck 
of  a  steamer  on  which  he  was  traveling  he  had  seen 
a  slave  mother  seek  death  by  springing  into  the 
river  with  her  child  clasped  to  her  bosom.  She 
preferred  death  for  herself  and  her  child  rather 
than  to  allow  her  little  girl  to  enter  the  life  into 
which  she  knew  she  would  be  sold. 

Still  other  ways  of  seeing  the  under  side  of  the 
movement  that  was  going  on  were  being  afforded 
the  quiet  little  woman  in  the  Cincinnati  suburb. 
Every  month  there  was  something  happening.  A 
press  that  printed  abolition  matter  was  destroyed,  a 
house  was  mobbed,  a  free  negro  was  kidnaped, 
the  shop  of  an  abolitionist  was  riddled,  or  a  negro 
schoolhouse  razed  to  the  ground.  And  in  the  mobs 
of  1840  there  was  a  general  attack  upon  the  negro 
population  in  the  midst  of  which  rescued  slaves 
were  caught  and  hurried  back  across  the  line  to 
their  plantations.  Houses  were  battered  down  by 
cannon,  violence  and  crime  naturally  followed  in 
the  wake  of  mob  law.  The  smoke  of  the  con 
flagration  could  be  seen  from  the  house  where 
Mrs.  Stowe  lived  and  the  sorrowful  processions 
of  colored  people  with  what  remained  of  their 
possessions  starting  out  for  Canada,  passed  by  her 
door;  mothers  passed  with  children  in  their  arms 
or  toddling  along  by  their  side,  and  discouraged 
men,  bearing  heavy  burdens.  Sometimes  at  night 

202 


PREPARATION    FOR   A   WORK 

she  heard  the  rattle  of  a  big  covered  wagon  in 
which  she  would  be  sure  was  an  escaping  woman 
being  helped  to  the  border. 

In  such  ways  as  these  Mrs.  Stowe  was  uncon 
sciously  trained  for  a  special  work.  So  far  the 
preparation  had  been  mostly  by  hearsay.  The 
practical  demonstrations  that  followed  it  were  to 
be  even  more  effective. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE   GREAT   INSPIRATION 

THAT  charming  writer  and  whole-souled 
man,  Colonel  T.  W.  Higginson,  some 
where  tells  us  that  all  the  things  he  ever 
heard  or  read  about  slavery  did  not  fix  in  his 
soul  such  a  hostility  to  it  as  a  single  scene  in  a  Mis 
souri  slave  market  that  he  once  saw.  He  says  that 
as  he  sat  here,  a  purchaser  came  in  to  buy  a  little 
girl  to  wait  on  his  wife.  Colonel  Higginson  saw 
three  little  sisters  brought  in  who  were  from  eight 
to  twelve  years  old;  they  were  mulattoes,  with 
sweet,  gentle  manners;  they  had  evidently  been 
taken  good  care  of,  and  their  pink  calico  frocks 
were  clean  and  whole.  He  saw  the  gentleman 
choose  one  of  them  and  heard  him  ask  her,  good- 
naturedly  enough,  if  she  did  not  wish  to  go  with 
him.  She  burst  into  tears  and  said,  "I  would 
rather  stay  with  my  mother."  1  But  her  tears  were 
as  powerless,  of  course,  as  so  many  salt  drops  from 
the  ocean. 

1  Col.  T.  W.  Higginson' s  "Common  Sense  about  Women." 
4th  Ed.,  1891,  Swan  Sonnenschein,  London,  p.  238. 

204 


THE    GREAT    INSPIRATION 

That  was  the  story.  All  the  horrors  of  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  he  said,  all  the  stories  told  him  by 
fugitive  slaves,  the  scarred  backs  he  afterward  saw 
by  dozens  among  colored  recruits,  did  not  impress 
him  as  did  that  hour  in  the  gaol.  The  whole  prob 
able  career  of  that  poor,  wronged,  motherless, 
shrinking  child  passed  before  his  mind.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  a  man  must  be  utterly  lost  to  all  manly 
instincts  who  would  not  give  his  life  to  overthrow 
such  a  system;  and  he  thought  that  a  woman  who 
could  tolerate,  much  less  defend  it,  could  not  her 
self  be  true,  could  not  be  pure,  or  must  be  fear 
fully  and  grossly  ignorant. 

Of  such  ignorance  as  this  no  one  can  accuse  Mrs. 
Stowe.  The  personal  touch  that  should  fire  knowl 
edge  into  passion  and  make  her  keenly  feel  what 
had  been  hitherto  but  a  part  of  her  theory  she  also 
was  to  receive. 

From  her  earliest  housekeeping  she  had  had 
"help"  from  the  colony  of  Cincinnati  colored  peo 
ple.  In  the  year  1839  a  certain  colored  girl  came 
to  work  for  her  who  had  been  a  slave,  but  who 
had  been  brought  by  her  mistress  into  Ohio  and 
left  there,  and  thus  by  the  laws  of  Ohio  made 
free.  But  by  this  time  a  new  national  requirement 
was  under  discussion  called  the  Fugitive  Slave 
Law;  by  this  law  the  people  of  such  a  state  as 
Ohio  were  to  be  commanded  to  give  back  to  their 
masters  all  colored  persons  found  in  their  territory, 
unless  they  had  been  set  free  by  special  papers 

205 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

stating  the  fact  and  showing  that  payment  had  been 
made  to  the  former  owners.  By  this  law  the  mas 
ter  of'  the  girl  that  worked  for  Mrs.  Stowe  could 
come  over  the  line  and  if  he  could  find  his  former 
slave  could  reclaim  her.  And  all  people  were  to 
be  required  to  aid  the  owners  to  gain  possession  of 
their  runaway  slaves.  People  who  did  not  believe 
in  the  justice  of  such  a  law  as  this  thought  it  right 
to  evade  it ;  and  among  these  was  the  Beecher  fam 
ily.  So  when  it  was  known  that  the  former  master 
of  the  girl  was  in  the  city  looking  for  his  property, 
Professor  Stowe  and  Henry  planned  to  conceal 
the  girl  from  him.  They  put  the  fugitive  in  a  car 
riage  and  together  drove  out  into  the  country  in  the 
darkest  hours  of  a  dismal,  stormy  night.  Follow 
ing  along  Mill  Creek  to  the  first  "station"  in  the 
underground  railway,  they  put  her  in  the  care  of 
the  sturdy  Quaker  farmer,  Mr.  John  Vanzandt,  who 
protected  her  until  she  could  be  taken  further  on 
her  way  to  Canada. 

This  is  the  law  that  is  referred  to  in  Chapter  IX 
of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  by  Mrs.  Bird,  that  timid, 
blushing  little  woman  who  was  about  four  feet  in 
height,  had  mild  blue  eyes  and  a  peach-blow  com 
plexion,  and  the  gentlest,  sweetest  voice  in  the 
world;  as  for  her  courage,  a  moderate-sized  cock 
turkey  had  been  known  to  put  her  to  rout  at  the 
very  first  gobble,  and  a  stout  house  dog  of  mod 
erate  capacity  would  bring  her  into  subjection 
merely  by  a  show  of  his  teeth.  And  yet  when  she 

206 


THE    GREAT    INSPIRATION 

heard  of  this  new  law  she  stood  up  before  her  hus 
band  (who  was  a  Senator  and  had  voted  for  it!) 
and  cried  out,  "Now,  John,  I  want  to  know  if  you 
think  such  a  law  as  that  is  right  and  Christian?" 
Her  husband,  the  Senator,  tried  to  argue  her  out 
of  her  prejudice,  but  did  not  succeed;  and  then, 
as  every  one  remembers,  this  same  sound-hearted 
Senator  was  the  first  to  let  his  heart  have  sway 
when  one  of  the  poor  runaways  came  distressed 
and  hunted  to  the  door  asking  for  rescue. 

It  was  Eliza,  who  had  made  her  way  across  the 
river,  springing  from  ice-block  to  ice-block,  in  the 
way  so  often  pictured,  and,  strange  to  say,  so  true 
also  to  the  fact.  Kind  Mrs.  Bird  made  her  com 
fortable  on  a  settle  by  the  fire.  After  this  Eliza 
told  the  pathetic  story  of  her  escape  and  gave  the 
real  deep  reason  why  she  desired  to  leave  her  home 
in  Kentucky.  It  was  not  merely  a  passion  for 
freedom,  though  that  intensely  American  trait  was 
no  doubt  the  fundamental  cause  why  many  colored 
people  were  willing  to  leave  owners  that  gave  them 
good  homes  and  had  not  been  specially  unkind  to 
them  to  launch  out  upon  a  hazardous  attempt  to 
win  support  in  commercial  lines  for  which  they 
had  no  training.  Let  us  read  this  passage,  and  find 
in  it  the  aspect  that  most  appealed  to  the  soul  of 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

"  'Were  you  a  slave?'  said  Mr.  Bird. 

" ' Yes,  sir ;  I  belonged  to  a  man  in  Kentucky/ 

"  'Was  he  unkind  to  you  ?' 
207 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

"  'No,  sir ;  he  was  a  good  master/ 

"  'And  was  your  mistress  unkind  to  you  ?' 

1  'No,  sir — no !  My  mistress  was  always  good  to 
me/ 

"  'What  could  induce  you  to  leave  a  good  home, 
then,  and  run  away,  and  go  through  such  dan 
gers?' 

"The  woman  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Bird  with  a  keen, 
scrutinizing  glance,  and  it  did  not  escape  her  that 
she  was  dressed  in  deep  mourning. 

"  'Ma'am,'  she  said  suddenly,  'have  you  ever  lost 
a  child  ?' 

"The  question  was  unexpected,  and  it  was  a 
thrust  on  a  new  wound;  for  it  was  only  a  month 
since  a  darling  child  of  the  family  had  been  laid  in 
the  grave. 

"Mr.  Bird  turned  around  and  walked  to  the  win 
dow,  and  Mrs.  Bird  burst  into  tears;  but,  recover 
ing  her  voice,  she  said : 

"  'Why  do  you  ask  that?  I  have  lost  a  little 
one/ 

"  'Then  you  will  feel  for  me.  I  have  lost  two, 
one  after  another,  .  .  .  and  I  had  only  this 
one  left.  .  .  .  And,  ma'am,  they  were  going 
to  take  him  away  from  me — to  sell  him — sell  him 
down  south,  ma'am,  to  go  all  alone — a  baby  that 
had  never  been  away  from  his  mother  in  his  life! 
I  couldn't  stand  it,  ma'am.  .  .  .  And  when  I 
knew  the  papers  were  signed,  and  he  was  sold,  I 
took  him  and  came  off  in  the  night;  and  they  chased 

208 


THE    GREAT    INSPIRATION 

me — the  man  that  bought  him  and  some  of  MasYs 
folks — and  they  were  coming  down  right  behind 
me,  and  I  heard  'em.  I  jumped  right  on  to  the  ice; 
and  how  I  got  across  I  don't  know — but,  first  thing 
I  knew,  a  man  was  helping  me  up  the  bank.' ' 

This  picture,  then,  shows  us  what  it  was  that 
seemed  most  terrible  to  the  mother  heart  of  Mrs. 
Stowe.  When  Mrs.  Bird  came  to  hunt  for  some 
clothing  that  she  could  give  to  Eliza  and  her  child, 
she  sought  the  drawer  where  the  precious  treasures 
of  her  own  lost  baby  were  sacredly  stored.  She 
"opened  the  little  bedroom  door  adjoining  her 
room,  and,  taking  the  candle,  set  it  down  on  the 
top  of  the  bureau  there;  then  from  a  small  recess 
she  took  a  key,  and  put  it  thoughtfully  in  the  lock 
of  a  drawer,  and  made  a  sudden  pause,  while  two 
boys,  who,  boylike,  had  followed  close  on  her  heels, 
stood  looking  with  silent,  significant  glances  at 
their  mother.  .  .  . 

"Mrs.  Bird  slowly  opened  the  drawer.  There 
were  little  coats  of  many  a  form  and  pattern,  piles 
of  aprons,  and  rows  of  small  stockings;  and  even 
a  pair  of  little  shoes,  worn  and  rubbed  at  the  toes, 
were  peeping  from  the  folds  of  a  paper.  There 
was  a  toy  horse  and  wagon,  a  top,  a  ball — me 
morials  gathered  with  many  a  tear  and  many  a 
heartbreak.  She  sat  down  by  the  drawer,  and, 
leaning  her  head  on  her  hands  over  it  wept  till  the 
tears  fell  through  her  fingers  into  the  drawer ;  then 
suddenly  raising  her  head  she  began  with  nervous 

209 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

haste  selecting  the  plainest  and  most  substantial 
articles  and  gathering  them  into  a  bundle. 

"  'Mamma/  said  one  of  the  boys,  'are  you  going 
to  give  away  those  things?' 

'  'My  dear  boys,'  she  said  softly  and  earnestly, 
'if  our  dear,  loving  little  Henry  looks  down  from 
Heaven  he  would  be  glad  to  have  us  do  this.  I 
could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  give  them  away  to 
any  common  person — to  anybody  that  was  happy; 
but  I  give  them  to  a  mother  more  heart-broken  and 
sorrowful  than  I  am ;  and  I  hope  God  will  send  his 
blessings  with  them !' ' 

Mrs.  Stowe  herself  had  learned  what  it  means 
to  the  mother  to  have  her  child  taken  from  her. 
In  the  depths  of  her  own  sorrow,  when  her  most 
beautiful  and  beloved  boy  was  lying  on  his  dying 
bed,  she  had  prayed  that  her  anguish  might  not  be 
suffered  in  vain.  Her  prayer  was  being  answered 
in  the  great  comprehension  coming  to  her  that  the 
separation  of  the  family  tie  was  the  most  poignant 
wrong  in  the  system  of  slavery.  This  feeling  she 
embodied  supremely  in  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  the 
very  epic  of  human  compassion.  At  the  time  of 
writing  this  great  book  her  mind  was  full,  her  hand 
was  trained,  her  soul  was  aflame.  When  the  great 
inspiration  came  she  was  not  disobedient  to  the 
heavenly  vision,  but  asking  no  question  how  or 
why,  she  wrote  as  she  was  moved  to  write.  How 
this  happened  is  now  to  be  told. 

In  the  year  1850  the  Stowe  family  were  having 
210 


THE    GREAT    INSPIRATION 

their  first  taste  of  a  drizzling,  inexorable,  north 
east  storm  in  the  State  of  Maine.  It  was  while  they 
were  getting  settled  in  this  new  home  that  the  news 
came  to  them  of  the  final  passing  of  the  Fugitive 
Slave  Act — an  event  that  sent  sweeping  across  the 
north  a  furore  of  indignation.  On  her  way  to  the 
new  home  in  Brunswick,  Maine,  Mrs.  Stowe  stayed 
for  ten  days  in  Boston  at  the  home  of  her  brother 
Edward.  Here  she  was  in  the  very  hotbed  of  the 
abolitionists;  and  as  she  heard  of  the  sufferings  of 
the  slaves  that  were  risking  all  to  reach  the  Canada 
line  beyond  which  they  were  safe,  and  of  the  cruel 
ties  inflicted  upon  those  so  hapless  as  to  be  taken 
back  to  their  former  owners,  she  cried,  "It  is  in 
credible,  amazing,  mournful!  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
be  willing  to  sink  with  it,  were  all  this  sin  and 
misery  to  sink  in  the  sea!"  The  cry  of  this  great 
sorrow  followed  her  after  she  was  settled  in  her 
new  home;  she  remembered  all  these  things  and 
pondered  them  in  her  heart;  and  when  she  bent 
over  her  own  new  child  as  he  lay  sleeping  beside 
her  at  night,  and  thought  of  the  slave  mothers 
whose  babies  had  been  taken  away  from  them,  her 
tears  fell  thick  upon  his  sleeping  face. 

Time  went  on  and  things  did  not  get  any  better. 
Mrs.  Stowe  was  writing  to  people  everywhere  north 
and  south  to  gather  unimpeachable  testimony  on  all 
phases  of  the  slave  system,  but  nothing  she  heard 
in  any  way  modified  her  opinion  or  her  feeling. 
One  day  her  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Edward  Beecher, 

15  211 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

in  Boston,  wrote  her:  "Now,  Hattie,  if  I  could  use 
a  pen  as  you  can  I  would  write  something  that 
would  make  this  whole  nation  feel  what  an  accursed 
thing  slavery  is."  This  touched  Mrs.  Stowe  to  the 
quick.  She  determined  that  she  would  heed  the 
call.  "I  will  write  something — I  will  if  I  live,"  she 
said  as  she  rose  with  a  determined  gesture.  She 
wrote  to  thank  her  sister-in-law  for  the  letter.  She 
said:  "As  long  as  the  baby  sleeps  with  me  nights 
I  cannot  do  anything,  but  I  will  do  it  at  last.  I 
will  do  that  thing  if  I  live." 

About  this  time  her  brother,  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  came  to  visit  her.  They  sat  up  all  night 
talking  over  the  thrilling  question  of  the  hour.  She 
confided  to  him  that  she  intended  to  write  some 
thing.  He  told  her  to  do  this,  and  he  would  scat 
ter  the  book  as  thick  as  leaves  of  Vallombrosa !  . 

Soon  after  this,  as  she  was  sitting  among  the 
worshipers  at  the  Sabbath  morning  communion 
service,  a  vision  passed  before  her  mind,  showing 
in  minutest  detail  one  whole  scene  of  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin."  Even  as  Colonel  Higginson,  in  the  pas 
sage  quoted  a  few  pages  back,  saw  in  his  imagina 
tion  the  inevitable  life  of  that  little  girl  in  the  slave 
market,  so  she  realized  with  the  vividness  of  a 
dream,  the  central  climax  of  her  book.  It  was  the 
death  scene  of  the  wonderful  old  negro,  Uncle 
Tom,  who  in  the  midst  of  his  lowly  state  is  always 
made  to  preserve  a  certain  dignity  and  even  charm. 
She  has  pictured  him  as  a  man  for  whose  character, 

212 


THE    GREAT    INSPIRATION 

only  the  highest  reverence  can  be  felt.  His  spirit 
was  of  a  meekness  so  Christ-like  that  no  outrage, 
no  suffering,  could  ruffle  its  calm,  nor  could  the 
steadfastness  of  his  faith  be  shaken.  Yet  the  ef 
fect  is  not  of  softness,  but  rather  of  a  stern  and" 
commanding  strength.  After  a  life  that  illustrated 
nearly  all  of  the  ups  and  downs  of  slavery,  a  final 
misfortune  came  to  him  in  the  fact  that  he  chanced 
to  know  about  the  plans  for  escape  that  some  of  his 
fellow-slaves  had  made.  To  compel  him  to  yield 
up  these  secrets  he  was  at  the  command  of  his 
master  brutally  whipped  all  one  night  long,  and  he 
died  the  next  day  as  the  result  of  this  punishment. 
Yet  toward  this  merciless  master  he  cherished  no  ill 
feeling.  Like  his  Lord  and  Master,  he  returned 
blessing  for  cursing;  he  was  anxious  only  for  the 
salvation  of  his  enemies.  "  'He  ain't  done  me  no 
real  harm — only  opened  the  gate  of  the  kingdom 
for  me;  that's  all!'  he  said."  His  last  words  were, 
r  'Who — who — who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love 
of  Christ  ?' '  And  with  a  smile  he  fell  asleep. 

The  description  of  this  scene  Mrs.  Stowe  wrote 
down  at  white  heat,  and  when  the  first  draft  was 
made  she  called  her  children  and  had  them  stand 
about  her  while  she  read  it  to  them.  As  she  read 
the  tears  streamed  down  their  faces,  and  one  of 
them,  a  boy  ten  years  old,  clinched  his  fists  and 
cried,  "Oh,  mamma,  slavery  is  the  most  cruel  thing 
in  the  world !"  After  a  while  their  father  came  in 
and  he  read  and  cried,  too.  He  said  to  her,  "You 

213 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

must  do  something  with  this,"  and  she  answered 
quietly,  "I  mean  to."  From  then  on,  as  she  had 
opportunity,  amid  extraordinary  household  duties, 
the  care  of  six  children  and  a  new  baby,  with  vari 
ous  guests,  with  unskilled  help,  and  with  myriad- 
distractions,  she  wrote  on  until  the  great  book  was 
finished.  Her  mind  was  so  full  of  the  subject  and 
her  vision  of  the  incidents  for  the  story  was  so  clear 
that  the  words  came  rushing  to  her  brain  faster 
than  she  could  write  them  down.  She  had  the  feel 
ing  that  the  story  was  in  possession  of  her  and 
not  she  in  possession  of  the  story;  or  rather  as  if 
some  divine  power  were  urging  her  on  and  giving 
her  the  words  to  set  down.  This  strange  experience 
was  remembered  by  her  as  a  time  when  the  Lord 
Himself  used  her  as  an  instrument  of  His  purpose. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
"UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN"   AND   ITS   INFLUENCE 

UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN"  was  dispatched 
chapter  by  chapter,  almost  before  the  ink 
was  dry,  to  the  editor  of  The  National 
Era,  an  anti-slavery  paper  published  in  Washing 
ton,  in  which  the  story  ran  from  June,  1851,  to 
April,  1852.  The  modest  author  who  was  accus 
tomed  to  think  of  herself  as  a  mere  household 
drudge  with  very  few  ideas  beyond  babies  and 
housekeeping,  did  not  dream  what  was  in  store 
for  her.  In  fact,  she  had  at  first  a  profound  feel 
ing  of  discouragement;  she  feared  the  book  would 
fall  to  the  ground  unnoticed  and  do  no  good  for 
the  cause.  That  this  might  not  happen,  she  sent 
copies  to  significant  persons  in  England  and  in  her 
own  country  to  call  their  attention  to  the  work  and 
to  win  their  interest  if  possible.  Charles  Dickens, 
Prince  Albert,  Macaulay,  Charles  Kingsley,  Lord 
Carlisle  and  the  Earl  of  Shaftsbury  received  copies 
and  acknowledged  them  in  courteous  and  feeling 
letters. 

215 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

But  Mrs.  Stowe  found  that  far  from  needing 
help  from  the  great  to  make  it  find  its  way,  her 
1  book  of  love  and  pity  had  struck  a  chord  in  the  uni 
versal  heart.  It  can  almost  be  said  of  her  as  it  was 
of  Byron  that  she  awoke  one  morning  and  found^j 
herself  famous.  No  book  in  American  literature 
ever  achieved  so  immediate  and  so  wide  a  popu 
larity.  There  was  an  unprecedented  call  for  it. 
Three  thousand  copies  went  off  the  first  day,  and 
soon  eight  power  presses  were  kept  busy  night  and 
day  to  supply  the  demand.  It  swept  over  the  coun 
try,  and  people  everywhere  were  reading  it  into  the 
small  hours  of  the  night,  weeping  and  sobbing  over 
the  death  of  little  Eva  and  over  the  heroism  of 
Uncle  Tom.  Before  the  year  was  over,  more  than 
three  hundred  thousand  copies  had  been  sold.  As 
Emerson  said,  it  "found  readers  in  the  parlor,  the 
nursery  and  the  kitchen  of  every  household." 

The  daughter  of  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  Mrs. 
Henry  Villard,  in  a  passage  recently  written,  sai4 : 
"I  read  it  as  a  little  child  with  tears  and  sobs,  as  did 
many  an  older  person,  thrilled  by  its  recital  of  the 
horrors  of  slavery,  and  touched  by  the  kindness 
of  those  who  were  slaveholders,  contrary  to  their 
wishes  and  the  dictates  of  conscience.  A  moral 
whirlwind  followed  in  its  path,  the  anti-slavery 
agitation  which  preceded  it  having  prepared  the 
way  for  its  wonderful  reception  in  the  north." 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  now  called  the  greatest  of  Ameri 
can  women;  her  book  was  declared  "a  work  of  un- 

216 


"UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN" 

doubted  genius";  it  was  "epoch-making";  Julia 
Ward  Howe  called  it  an  "offering  on  the  altar  of  a 
heavenly  intuition,  destined  to  go  down  to  posterity 
as  of  supreme  desert  and  of  undying  memory." 
to  The  poet  Whittier  wrote :  "What  a  glorious  work 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  has  wrought!  Thanks  for 
the  Fugitive  Slave  Law!  Better  for  slavery  that 
law  had  never  been  enacted,  for  it  gave  occasion 
for  'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.'  " 

Yet  not  all  the  breezes  that  blew  were  balmy. 
There  were  many  astonished  outcries,  some  exe 
crations.  But  these  things  influenced  the  mind  of 
the  author  very  little.  She  knew  that  they  would 
not  change  the  heart  of  her  friends  toward  her, 
and  they  could  not  change  the  truth.  So  what  had 
she  to  fear? 

Very  soon  editions  began  to  appear  in  England, 
and  within  a  year  a  million  and  a  half  copies  had 
been  sold  in  that  country.  Through  France  and 
Germany,  Italy  and  Sweden,  too,  the  book  went 
like  wildfire.  That  good,  friendly  soul,  Frederika 
Bremer,  wrote  to  Mrs.  Stowe  that  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin"  had  been  translated  and  read  and  praised  in 
Sweden  as  no  book  ever  was  before,  adding  that 
she  had  an  unwavering  faith  in  the  "strong  hu 
manity  of  the  American  mind."  She  said :  "It  will 
ever  throw  out  whatever  is  at  war  with  that  hu 
manity  ;  and  to  make  it  fully  alive,  nothing  is  needed 
but  a  truly  strong  appeal  of  heart  to  heart,  and  that 
has  been  done  in  'Uncle  Tom.'  "  In  France  George 

217 


HARRIET    BEECHER   STOWE 

Sand  wrote  a  notable  review  of  the  book  in  which 
she  said  that  it  was  no  longer  permissible  to  those 
that  could  read  not  to  have  read  it.  The  people 
devour  it,  she  said;  they  cover  it  with  tears.  In  a 
short  time  there  were  few  places  in  Italy  also  where 
"II  Zio  Tom"  could  not  be  found. 

Soon  the  pebble  that  had  been  thrown  into  the 
water  began  to  make  wider  circles.  Florence 
Nightingale  wrote  to  Mrs.  Stowe  that  the  British 
soldiers  amid  the  hardships  of  far  eastern  campaigns 
read  the  story  of  heroism.  The  book  was  printed 
at  Venice  by  a  fraternity  of  Catholic  Armenian 
monks  so  that  in  the  Armenian  language  it  now 
was  carried  in  all  the  wanderings  of  that  intelli 
gent  people,  in  the  towns  and  villages  along  the 
banks  of  the  Euphrates,  through  southern  Russia, 
and  in  the  farthest  confines  of  Persia.  At  last  it 
reached  Bengal,  and,  in  their  own  language,  became 
a  household  book  among  the  Bengalese.  Flying 
across  the  straits  into  Siam,  it  reached  the  royal 
group,  where  a  member  of  the  family  liberated  her 
own  slaves  to  the  number  of  one  hundred  and  thirty 
as  a  result  of  its  influence,  and  always  signed  her 
own  name  "Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,"  because  of 
her  admiration  for  the  author  of  the  book.  Pro 
fessors  Lin  Shu  and  Wei-I  of  Peking  together 
made  a  translation  into  Chinese,  and  Professor 
Takenobu  of  the  Waseda  University,  Tokio,  trans 
lated  it  into  Japanese. 

A  poem  by  Dr.  Holmes  sums  up,  in  his  character- 
218 


"  UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN" 

istic  merry  vein,  the  tale  of  the  nations  that  learned 
to  recognize  the  author  of  "Uncle  Tom."  If  we 
should  call  the  roll, 

Briton  and  Frenchman,  Swede  and  Dane, 
Turk,  Spaniard,  Tartar  of  Ukraine, 

Hidalgo,   Cossack,  Cadi, 
High  Dutchman  and  low  Dutchman,  too, 
The  Russian  serf,  the  Polish  Jew, 
Arab,  Armenian,  and  Mantchoo, 

Would  shout,  "We  know  the  lady!" 

Of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  Germany  has  nine 
separate  translations  and  France  thirteen,  besides 
dramas  and  abridgments,  and  chansons,  and  Rus 
sia  has  five.  In  Welsh  and  in  Italian  there  are 
three;  Finnish  and  Flemish  must  now  be  included 
and  Hungarian  and  Tllyrian,  Portuguese,  Modern 
Greek  and  Servian;  Wallachian  and  Wendish  and 
Yiddish  are  not  in  Dr.  Holmes'  list,  but  should  be. 
By  1913  there  were  sixty-six  translations  of  this 
almost  universal  book,  not  counting  abridgments 
or  dramas.  Of  English  editions  there  are  forty- 
three,  and  in  this  country,  how  many?  We  have 
lost  count.  It  would  be  also  quite  impossible  to  add 
up  the  dramatic  versions  of  Eliza's  fateful  adven 
ture. 

All  of  this  goes  to  show  that  Whittier  was 
hardly  stretching  the  truth  when  he  wrote  his  poem 

To  her  who  world-wide  entrance  gave 
To  the  log-cabin  of  the  slave, 
219 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

Made  all  his  wrongs  and  sorrows  known, 
And  all  earth's  languages  his  own ! 

It  was  a  long  time  before  people  could  look  at 
the  book  fairly  and  judge  of  its  literary  rank;  and 
even  to  this  day  there  are  writers  who  call  "Uncle 
Tom"  merely  a  colossal  piece  of  journalism.  It 
was  indeed  written  at  white  heat  and  with  the  swift 
ness  of  a  bird's  flight.  "Hurry !  help !  hurry !  help !" 
must  have  been  ringing  in  her  ears  as  she  wrote.. 

During  the  winter  that  she  wrote  the  book  she 
had  been  running  through  with  her  children  the 
novels  of  Scott,  and  Scott  is  the  writer  to  whom  she 
is  the  nearest  of  kin  in  the  art  of  writing.  There 
was  a  time  when  the  tireless  hand  of  that  great 
story-teller  was  seen  by  an  observer  in  a  window 
across  the  way,  to  go  back  and  forth,  back  and 
forth,  through  the  evening  and  the  night  and  into 
the  wee  sma'  hours.  This  makes  us  think  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's  smooth  fluent  script  and  the  lightning 
swiftness  of  her  little  hand.  She  wrote  like  the  wind, 
listening  not  for  the  cackle  of  literary  critics,  but  to 
the  inner  voice  that  kept  saying,  "Write!" 

So  it  happens  that  its  lapses  of  style,  its  careless 
ness  of  technical  laws  have  been  a  stumbling  block 
to  some  good  souls  that  have  fed  on  other  traditions 
and  theories.  The  truth  is  that  words  grow  from 
age  to  age;  laws  of  style  perish  and  new  laws 
blossom  out  of  their  graves;  but  a  torch  of  human 

220 


"UNCLE    TOM'S    CABIN" 

sympathy  once  truly  set  alight  will  burn  on  for 
ever. 

Mr.  Howells  in  "My  Literary  Passions"  says 
that  he  felt  the  greatness  of  the  book  when  he  first 
read  it;  and  as  often  as  he  has  read  it  since  he 
has  seen  more  and  more  clearly  that  it  is  a  very 
great  novel.  He  says  that  the  art  in  it  is  very  sim 
ple  and  perhaps  primitive,  yet  it  is  still  a  work  of 
art.  Its  power,  however,  is  to  him  inexplicable. 

This  is  one  of  the  greatest  things  that  could  be 
said  about  the  book.  It  does  possess  that  consum 
mate  quality  which  supreme  works  of  art  always 
have,  namely,  that  their  power  over  us  is  great,  but 
that  we  do  not  see  why  it  should  be  so  great.  Their 
charm  is  inexplicable.  Mrs.  Stowe's  fellow  genius, 
George  Sand,  said  that  in  art  there  is  but  one  rule 
— to  paint  and  to  move.  By  this  law,  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  is  a  great  work  of  art.  It  painted ;  it 
made  a  great  people  see;  and  it  moves  the  whole 
world.  The  same  generous  critic  said  that  Mrs. 
Stowe  may  not  have  "talent,  but  she  has  genius  as 
humanity  feels  genius.  And  we  ought  to  feel,"  she 
said,  "that  genius  is  heart,  that  power  is  faith,  that 
talent  is  sincerity,  and  success  is  sympathy,  since 
this  book  overcomes  us,  since  it  penetrates  the 
breast,  pervades  the  spirit,  and  fills  us  with  a 
strange  sentiment  of  mingled  tenderness  and  ad 
miration  for  a  poor  negro  .  .  .  gasping  on  a 
miserable  pallet,  his  last  sigh  exhaled  toward  God." 

Time  alone  can  pass  final  judgment  on  "Uncle 
221 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

Tom's  Cabin."  Let  a  few  centuries  move  by  and 
if  as  an  Epic  of  Compassion,  dissevered  from  varia 
ble  historical  associations,  it  continues  to  console 
and  to  strengthen,  then  its  place  among  masterpieces 
will  be  secure. 

For  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  is  not  a  story  of  sla 
very;  the  system  of  slavery  only  happened  to  be 
the  material  out  of  which  the  story  was  made.  It 
has  a  far  wider  meaning  as  a  story  of  human  love 
and  pity.  As  such  its  mission  is  to  carry  comfort 
to  any  souls  that  are  in  doubt  and  sorrow.  It 
makes  us  feel  that  to  have  faith  is  possible  and  it 
reinforces  our  belief  that  God  will  help  in  time  of 
need.  A  reading  of  "Uncle  Tom"  has  led  myriads 
of  distraught  souls  to  a  rereading  of  the  Bible,  that 
book  so  beloved  by  the  black  hero  because  it  gave 
him  strength  to  bear  his  sore  trials.  In  his  "Life" 
of  his  mother,  published  by  her  son  in  1889,  Mr. 
Charles  E.  Stowe  says  that  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin" 
shows  that  "under  circumstances  of  utter  desolation 
and  despair,  the  religion  of  Christ  can  enable  the 
poorest  and  most  ignorant  human  being,  not  merely 
to  submit,  but  to  triumph — that  the  soul  of  the 
lowest  and  weakest,  by  its  aid,  can  become  strong  in 
superhuman  virtue,  and  rise  above  every  threat  and 
terror  and  danger  in  a  sublime  assurance  of  an  ever- 
present  love  and  an  immortal  life." 


CHAPTER  XVII 
WANDERING  IN   FOREIGN   LANDS 

WHEN  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  had  been  some 
four  months  in  the  hands  of  the  people, 
the  publishers  sent  Mrs.  Stowe  a  check 
for  ten  thousand  dollars!  Professor  Stowe  held 
this  magical  piece  of  paper  in  his  hands  and  look 
ing  helplessly  at  his  wife,  said,  "Why,  Harriet,  I 
never  saw  so  much  money  in  my  life!"  He  had 
hoped  that  the  book  would  be  successful  enough 
in  the  financial  way  to  buy  for  her  what  she  very 
much  needed,  a  new  silk  dress.  The  returns  from 
the  sale,  however,  besides  accomplishing  that  modest 
result,  also  brought  within  reach  many  comforts 
hitherto  unknown  in  the  house  of  the  professor's 
family.  More  than  this,  they  assured  the  oppor 
tunity  for  foreign  travel  and  for  the  beneficial  meet 
ing  with  people  in  England  and  elsewhere  who  sym 
pathized  with  the  cause  to  which  Mrs.  Stowe  had 
dedicated  her  heart. 

In  the  spring  of  1853,  then,  we  find  her  starting 
out  for  her  first  sea  voyage.    This  new  experience 

223 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

with  that  "restless,  babbling  giant,"  the  ocean,  was 
described  in  her  first  letter  home  in  her  accustomed 
merry  vein.  If  you  are  going  to  sea,  she  wrote  to 
her  children,  you  must  have  everything  ready;  you 
must  set  your  house — that  is,  your  stateroom — in 
order  as  if  you  were  going  to  be  hanged,  for  you 
may  be  sure  that  in  half  an  hour  after  sailing  an 
infinite  desperation  will  seize  you  in  which  the 
grasshopper  will  be  a  burden.  Her  voyage  she  de 
clared  gave  her  a  new  sympathy  for  babies  who  are 
rocked  at  home  without  so  much  as  a  "by  your 
leave";  she  thought  it  no  wonder  there  are  so 
many  stupid  people  in  the  world !  There  were  mo 
ments,  however,  when  she  could  conquer  the  nerv 
ous  horror  she  always  had  of  that  "rude,  noisy  old 
servant"  of  the  Lord,  and  could  feel  that  the  ocean 
was  always  obedient  to  His  will,  and  could  not 
carry  her  beyond  His  power  and  love,  wherever  and 
to  whatever  it  might  bear  her.  At  one  time  on  a 
later  journey  she  had  this  faith  put  to  the  test  when 
her  ship  was  run  into  by  another,  and  she  found 
that  it  did  not  fail  her,  but  kept  her  calm  and  serene 
throughout  the  ordeal. 

When  Mrs.  Stowe,  together  with  her  husband 
and  brother,  reached  England  a  great  surprise 
awaited  them.  She  had  had  no  realization  of  the 
real  significance  of  having  written  a  book  of  uni 
versal  pity  and  love  that  would  awaken  a  response 
in  every  heart  among  rich  and  poor.  She  was  dazed 
that  so  many  people  came  to  the  boat  \o  meet  her, 

224 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

that  she  walked  up  the  wharf  through  a  long  lane 
of  kindly,  welcoming  faces,  and  that  wherever  she 
went  in  England,  and  especially  in  Scotland,  her 
carriage  was  run  after  by  wild  flocks  of  sympathetic 
people  anxious  to  catch  one  glimpse  of  the  author 
of  "Uncle  Tom." 

She  felt,  she  said,  like  a  child  who  had  set  fire 
to  a  packet  of  gunpowder.  And  if  on  the  approach 
to  some  cathedral  door  her  way  was  blocked  by  the 
crowd  waiting  to  see  her  as  she  passed  in,  she  could 
only,  in  her  amazement,  quote  the  words,  "What 
went  ye  out  for  to  see?  A  reed  shaken  with  the 
wind?"  "It  seems  to  me  so  odd,"  she  wrote  home 
from  England,  "so  odd  and  dreamlike  that  so  many 
persons  desire  to  see  me;  and  now  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  they  will  think  when  they  do,  that 
God  hath  chosen  the  weak  things  of  this  world !" 

Evidently  Mrs.  Stowe  had  very  little  conceit 
about  herself.  She  was  always  a  quiet,  unostenta 
tious  little  body,  "a  little  bit  of  a  woman,"  as  she 
described  herself,  "just  as  thin  and  dry  as  a  pinch 
of  snuff."  She  must  have  been  utterly  wanting  in 
vanity,  for  when  she  began  to  be  famous  and 
everybody  was  desiring  to  see  her,  she  thought  it 
all  simply  wonderful  and  declared  that  she  was 
"never  very  much  to  look  at"  in  her  best  days. 

There  have  been  so  many  things  to  say  about 
Harriet  Beecher  that  too  little  attention  has  per 
haps  been  given  in  this  book  to  her  personal  appear 
ance.  Let  us  make  up  for  that  at  one  stroke.  When 

225 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

the  Beecher  children's  stepmother  came  to  live  with 
them  she  said  that  the  four  youngest  children — 
George,  Harriet,  Henry  and  Charles — were  all  very 
pretty,  and  that  Harriet  and  Henry  were  as  lovely 
children  as  she  ever  saw.  Harriet  combined  the 
aquiline  Foote  brow  with  the  stronger  lines  of  the 
Beecher  family.  She  was  small  in  figure  and  quick 
in  her  movements.  Her  hands  were  plastic  and 
mobile,  the  most  controlled  and  manageable  hands 
in  the  world;  their  motion  made  a  language  in  it 
self.  Her  dark-brown  hair  that  never  lost  a  warm- 
ness  of  tone  until  the  snow  began  to  fall  upon  it, 
curled  about  her  face,  and,  in  the  fashion  that  pre 
vailed  during  her  young  ladyhood,  was  allowed  to 
fall  in  ringlets  on  each  side.  Her  eyes  were  of  the 
blue-gray  that  takes  on  all  colors  as  emotion  moves 
the  soul;  they  had  often  a  far-away  dreamy  ex 
pression  that  came  from  her  complete  absorption  in 
thought.  For  instance,  at  a  luncheon  in  her  honor 
she  did  not  join  in  the  flow  of  conversation  at  all, 
but  sat  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  explaining 
afterward  that  she  had  been  making  the  scheme  of 
a  new  book  and  thinking  out  the  characters  for  it, 
and  had  forgotten  where  she  was.  In  this  respect 
she  was  like  Tennyson  who,  under  similar  condi 
tions,  is  said  to  have  remarked  only  that  he  had 
eaten  "too  much,  much  too  much!"  At  other 
times,  however,  Mrs.  Stowe  delighted  her  fellow 
guests  at  some  dinner  table  by  her  interest  in  the 
subject  discussed;  her  heightened  color,  and  her 

226 


WANDERING   IN   FOREIGN   LANDS 

shining  eyes,  together  with  the  ardor  and  good 
sense  of  her  talk,  the  vivacity  of  her  expression,  and 
the  nobility  that  characterized  her  points  of  view, 
charmed  all  that  came  within  her  circle.  After 
such  a  time  the  hostess  might  go  away  and  com 
plain,  as  one  did,  that  she  had  not  been  told  before 
hand  how  beautiful  Mrs.  Stowe  was!  The  printed 
pictures  that  appeared  in  the  English  papers  never 
did  her  justice.  But  she  had  too  little  vanity  to 
mind  that.  When  she  saw  them  she  was  amazed 
at  the  loving  kindness  of  her  English  and  Scottish 
friends  who  could  keep  up  such  a  warm  affection 
for  such  a  Gorgon.  She  thought  that  the  Sphinx 
at  the  British  Museum  must  have  sat  for  most  of 
them.  She  planned  to  make  a  collection  of  them  to 
carry  home  to  her  children — they  would  be  useful, 
like  the  Irishman's  signboard,  to  show  where  the 
road  did  not  go!  These  monstrous  pictures,  how 
ever,  did  her  this  service,  that  everybody  was  sur 
prised  and  relieved  when  they  came  to  her  and 
found  that  she  was  not  such  a  perfect  Gorgon  after 
all !  There  was  one  picture  made  of  her  about  this 
time,  however,  that  is  worthy  of  preservation,  a 
beautiful  drawing  by  Richmond.  Although  Mrs. 
Stowe  said  when  she  saw  it,  "I  shall  look  like  that 
when  I  am  in  heaven!" — still  many  that  knew  her 
in  earlier  years  thought  it  a  good  likeness. 

Mrs.   Stowe   found  not  only  curiosity  but  also 
friendly  welcome  among  the  English  people.     One 
typically  pleasant  English  home  was  opened  to  them 
16  227 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

at  once.  The  morning  after  her  arrival  she  was 
asked  to  breakfast  at  the  sister-in-law's  of  her  host, 
and  on  running  over  in  the  most  informal  way 
found  forty  people  sitting  with  bonnets  on  waiting 
for  a  chance  to  meet  the  lion;  all  of  which  would 
have  been  embarrassing  had  not  the  friendly 
warmth  and  cordiality  of  the  circle  been  made  evi 
dent  by  their  smiling  faces.  As  she  traveled  along, 
friends  arose  everywhere.  Now  she  rested  in  some 
delightful,  homelike  room  by  a  cheerful  fire  that 
flickered  on  pictures,  statuettes,  bookcases  and  all 
comfortable  things,  with  an  armchair  drawn  up 
before  it  and  a  pot  of  moss  on  the  table  set  in  the 
center  of  a  round  pin-cushion;  or  if  in  the  vicis 
situdes  of  travel  she  found  herself  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  in  the  street  with  baggage  thrown  about 
her  and  a  vociferous  circle  of  cabmen  declaring  they 
could  do  no  more  to  discover  a  lost  address,  she 
would  be  sure  to  find  shelter  in  a  quiet  house  which 
would  turn  out  to  be  the  very  place  friends  had 
prepared  for  her  and  her  party.  But  it  was  not  only 
in  the  quiet  homes  that  she  found  welcome ;  she  saw 
the  routine  in  a  ducal  castle  from  morning  prayers 
on  through  the  joyous  drives  and  visiting  of  the 
day  to  the  putting  out  of  the  last  candle  at  night. 
With  the  Queen  herself  she  had  what  Professor 
Stowe  called  the  "pleasantest  little  interview  that 
ever  was."  He  described  her  as  a  "real  nice  little 
body,  with  exceedingly  pleasant,  agreeable  man 
ners!"  And  four  royal  children  stared  their  eyes 

228 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

almost  out  looking  at  the  author  of  "Uncle  Tom" 
while  the  interview  was  going  on. 

Mrs.  Stowe's  first  visit  to  England  was  made  on 
the  invitation  of  the  Anti-Slavery  Society  of  Glas 
gow,  and  the  occasion  became  therefore  semi 
official  in  its  character.  Not  only  was  there  a  great 
deal  of  interest  in  her  personality,  but  there  was 
also  so  much  enthusiasm  for  the  cause  she  was  held 
everywhere  to  represent  that  associations  as  well  as 
individuals  were  anxious  to  meet  her  and  to  do 
honor  to  her.  Deputations  came  to  greet  her  from 
the  cities  through  which  she  passed  and  others  that 
were  in  the  vicinity.  Every  community  seemed 
bent  upon  putting  itself  on  record.  At  Glasgow 
there  were  deputations  from  Paisley,  Greenock, 
Dundee,  Edinburgh;  and  not  to  be  outdone  by  the 
mother  island,  Belfast  sent  one  over  from  Ireland. 
At  the  entrance  to  Edinburgh  the  magistracy  of  the 
city  met  her  and  made  approaches  to  her.  She  was 
carried  through  long  passages  made  in  the  masses 
of  the  people  and  conducted  to  a  gallery  where  she 
took  her  tea  with  a  thousand  people  and  thought 
the  teapot  of  Hadji  Baba,  the  father  of  all  tea 
kettles,  must  have  been  there  to  go  around  so  large 
a  company.  Enthusiastic  meetings  were  held  and 
speeches  were  made.  For  the  quiet  little  figure  on 
the  platform  the  answer  was  always  given  by  her 
husband  whose  handsome  face  and  fine  presence 
won  everybody  to  admiration  and  regard ;  and  when 
he  said  that  he  could  not  imagine  how  any  sort  of 

229 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

a  written  book  could  have  brought  forward  such 
expressions  of  friendliness  as  they  were  showing, 
that  he  thought  the  book  had  not  been  written  at 
all,  that  he  "  'spected  it  grew/'  the  vociferous  ap 
plause  of  the  audience  testified  not  only  to  their  de 
light  in  his  sally  of  wit,  but  to  the  fact  that  they 
knew  by  heart  their  "Uncle  Tom,"  and  especially 
their  excellent  Topsy. 

They  made  a  practical  expression  of  their  sym 
pathy  with  the  cause  Mrs.  Stowe  represented  in 
wonderful  gifts.  At  Edinburgh  a  national  penny 
offering,  summed  up  in  a  thousand  gold  sovereigns, 
was  presented  to  her  on  a  silver  salver;  Belfast 
sent  a  bogwood  casket  lined  with  gold,  carved  with 
national  symbols  and  containing  an  offering  for  the 
cause;  at  Surrey  Chapel  in  London  she  received 
an  inkstand,  which  was  a  beautiful  piece  of  silver 
work,  carved  into  a  group  of  figures  representing 
Religion  with  a  Bible  in  her  hand  giving  liberty  to 
the  slave.  A  band  of  children  gave  her  a  gold 
pen,  and  she  made  her  only  public  speech  in  talking 
a  little  to  them.  Above  all  other  gifts  in  interest 
was  that  presented  by  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland 
at  Stafford  House  in  London,  a  bracelet  made  in 
the  form  of  a  slave's  shackle  of  ten  links  and  a 
clasp.  On  one  of  the  links  was  inscribed  the  date 
of  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade  March  25,  1807, 
and  of  slavery  in  the  English  colonies  August  I, 
1834.  On  the  clasp  was  written  the  number  of  sig 
natures  to  an  Address  that  was  presented  to  Mrs. 

230 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

Stowe  on  the  occasion  of  that  meeting  at  Stafford 
House.  The  number  was  562,448.  Of  this  Ad 
dress  we  shall  hear  more  after  a  while.  On  the 
other  links  of  the  bracelet  it  was  suggested  that 
Mrs.  Stowe  should  have  placed  the  date  of  the  free 
ing  of  slaves  in  our  own  country;  but  Mrs.  Stowe 
did  not  at  that  time  believe  that  she  should  live  to 
see  the  day  when  that  happy  event  should  come 
about.  She  was,  however,  as  we  know,  to  have  that 
good  fortune  within  a  dozen  years,  and  to  record 
it  upon  the  other  links  of  the  historic  bracelet. 

Many  of  these  meetings  were  marked  by  tremen 
dous  excitement,  such  meetings  as  England  has  been 
famous  for  throughout  modern  days  and  such  as 
have  brought  about  many  reforms.  Attending  such 
a  meeting  and  realizing  the  strength  of  the  feeling 
that  flowed  under  the  outward  expression,  Mrs. 
Stowe  said :  "I  do  not  believe  that  there  is  in  all 
America  more  vehemence  of  democracy,  more  vol 
canic  force  of  power,  than  comes  out  in  one  of  these 
great  gatherings  in  our  old  fatherland.  I  saw 
plainly  enough  where  Concord,  Lexington,  and 
Bunker  Hill  came  from ;  and  it  seems  to  me  there  is 
enough  of  this  element  of  indignation  at  wrong, 
and  resistance  of  tyranny,  to  found  half  a  dozen 
republics  as  strong  as  we  are." 

In  such  ways  as  these  Mrs.  Stowe  was  becoming 
acquainted  with  the  very  heart  of  the  English  and 
Scottish  people.  But  it  was  not  only  the  great  and 
titled  that  came  forward  to  represent  the  leading 

231 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

thought  in  greeting  this  woman  who  stood  to  them 
for  so  much.  In  the  villages  through  which  they 
drove  and  along  the  roadsides,  the  so-called  com 
mon  people  were  ready  with  their  greetings  also. 
In  the  doorways  everywhere  people  stood  bowing 
and  smiling,  and  sometimes  running  out  to  offer 
flowers;  and  little  boys  ran  after  her  carriage  cry 
ing  out  tkat  they  knew  her  by  the  curls!  She 
wrote:  'The  butcher  came  out  of  his  stall  and  the 
baker  from  his  shop,  the  miller  dusty  with  flour, 
the  blooming,  comely  young  mother  with  her  baby 
in  her  arms,  all  smiling  and  bowing  with  that 
hearty  intelligent  friendly  look  as  if  they  knew  we 
should  be  glad  to  see  them/'  Then  there  were  in 
various  cities  meetings  especially  for  the  working 
men;  and  as  her  train  went  along,  even  at  night, 
friendly  faces  were  waiting  at  the  stations,  good 
souls  watching  through  the  dark  to>  catch  one 
glimpse  of  the  writer  or  perhaps  to  grasp  her  hand ; 
then  as  the  train  moved  away,  saying,  "Good 
night!"  with  the  unmistakable  Scotch  accent,  mak 
ing  her  think  that  she  had  felt  a  throb  of  the  living 
Scotch  heart.  Mrs.  Stowe  felt  the  spirit  that 
prompted  this  reverential  tribute,  a  spirit  that  makes 
one  blood  of  all  the  families  of  earth.  She,  in  fact, 
considered  herself  altogether  inadequate  and  dis 
proportionate  as  an  object  to  call  forth  such  out 
bursts  of  applause;  she  was  most  modest  in  her 
reception  of  them,  and  believed  them  to  be,  as  she 
afterward  said  to  a  friend,  but  the  expression  of  a 

232 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

great  spirit  of  universal  brotherhood,  surging  for 
ward  in  a  huge  sympathetic  wave.  Beneath  the 
weight  of  these  honors  the  New  England  sim 
plicity  of  her  character  remained  unimpaired. 

Everything  that  happened  to  her  she  enjoyed  to 
the  utmost,  and  she  only  wished  that  she  had  a  re 
lay  of  bodies  and  could  slip  from  a  tired  one  into  a 
rested  one  now  and  then !  She  began  to  be  so  talked 
out  and  worn  out  that  there  was  hardly  a  chip  of 
her  left.  To  breakfast  with  forty  people,  lunch 
with  three  hundred,  take  tea  with  a  thousand,  and 
go  to  an  evening  mass  meeting  and  perhaps  to  more 
receptions  the  same  night,  would  be  rather  trying 
to  a  delicate  woman  who  had  come  abroad  chiefly 
to  seek  rest  after  the  strain  of  writing  a  great 
book.  Mrs.  Stowe  began  to  feel  a  weariness  that 
made  seeing  people  a  burden.  For  besides  answer 
ing  innumerable  letters  of  invitation  and  congratu 
lation,  besides  all  the  receptions  and  dinners  and  the 
babble  of  innumerable  voices,  she  found  that  she 
could  not  lay  her  pen  entirely  aside,  but  must  write 
full  accounts  of  everything  she  saw  and  enjoyed 
and  heard  to  send  to  her  children  at  home.  It  is 
said  that  the  most  valuable  document  of  his  time 
is  the  "Diary  of  John  Wesley,"  because,  I  suppose, 
it  is  so  full  of  unprejudiced  and  minutely  truthful 
accounts  of  things  that  the  dignified  historians  have 
no  time  to  busy  themselves  with.  In  the  same  way, 
the  series  of  letters  that  Mrs.  Stowe  wrote,  after 
ward  published  in  two  volumes,  called  "Sunny 

233 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

Memories/'  contain  observations  of  men  and  things 
that  scarcely  another  person  of  her  time  would 
have  had  the  opportunity  to  gain  or  to  give;  these 
volumes,  besides  being  amusing  and  enlightening, 
will  have  for  the  future  a  distinct  historic  value. 

There  were  many  good  times  to  be  enjoyed  as 
they  went  along  on  their  journeys.  They  kept  a 
bright  lookout  for  ruins  and  all  things  that  would 
touch  into  life  their  memories  of  English  romance 
and  poetry.  They  saw  that  "city  of  colleges,"  Ox 
ford,  which  seemed  to  them  a  veritable  mountain 
of  museums,  colleges,  halls,  courts,  parks,  chapels, 
and  lecture  rooms.  They  took  dinner  at  the  White 
Hart  Inn,  where  the  scene  of  Shakespeare's  "Merry 
Wives"  was  laid ;  they  wandered  through  chambers 
hung  with  tapestries  woven  to  tell  the  tale  of  Medea 
and  Jason;  they  had  a  pleasant  drive  in  Hyde  Park 
as  Harriet  had  read  of  the  heroines  of  romance  do 
ing  in  old  novels;  they  felt  sincere  "dispositions  to 
melancholies"  beside  the  churchyard  where  the 
"Elegy"  was  composed,  and  found  out  only  later 
that  their  tears  had  been  shed  at  the  wrong  church 
yard  !  They  rode  on  the  coach  top  and  listened  to 
the  stories  told  by  the  driver  just  as  they  would 
have  done  in  their  own  country;  they  visited  the 
fishing  ground  of  old  Isaak  Walton;  they  went 
through  the  great  palace  at  Windsor,  and  there, 
above  all  the  splendors  they  were  chiefly  interested 
in  one  little  wicker  baby-carriage  they  happened  to 
see  standing  waiting  for  its  occupant!  All  the 

234 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

great  works  of  art  Mrs.  Stowe  saw  moved  her 
tremendously;  they  satisfied  a  life-long  hunger. 
How  the  lofty  arches  of  the  cathedrals  touched  her 
heart !  She  realized  at  once  that  these  triumphs  of 
architectural  art  give  aspiration  its  noblest  symbol, 
and  she  found  a  preparation  of  mind  for  religious 
emotions  in  the  dusky  choirs  and  the  flame-like 
arches  gorgeous  with  evening  light.  Then  when 
she  crossed  to  the  continent  and  entered  the  gal 
leries  and  saw  the  paintings  there  and  on  the  walls 
of  the  churches,  she  was  again  astonished,  delighted, 
and  satisfied  as  never  before.  She  was  especially 
overcome  when  she  saw  the  "Descent  from  the 
Cross"  by  Rubens.  She  said :  "Art  has  satisfied  me 
at  last.  I  have  been  conquered  and  that  is  enough." 
This  was  said  before  she  went  to  Italy,  where 
further  enjoyments  awaited  her  in  later  journeys. 
A  young  student  of  life  wishing  to  make  a  visit  to 
the  great  storehouses  of  delight  in  art  and  history 
in  the  European  world  and  not  able  to  cross  the 
ocean  for  the  purpose,  could  not  do  better  than  read 
these  perfectly  sincere  and  vital  comments  upon  art, 
history  and  things  in  general  found  in  Mrs.  Stowe' s 
"Sunny  Memories." 

In  these  "Sunny  Memories"  we  see  how  much  it 
meant  to  her  to  come  into  friendly  relations  with 
many  people  whose  names  had  been  well  known  to 
her  through  their  books.  To  a  writer  the  com 
panionship  of  other  writers  means  much.  Mrs. 
Stowe  had  here  her  great  opportunity.  It  would 

235 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

not  be  possible  to  go  over  the  large  circle  of  great 
names  she  came  to  know  by  more  than  the  printed 
letters.  John  Ruskin,  George  Eliot,  Charles  Kings- 
ley  were  among  them,  besides  the  long  lists  of  peo 
ple  whose  titles  were  not  their  only  claim  to  interest. 
In  Paris  there  was  another  circle  of  great  people, 
and  when  she  came  to  Italy,  there  were  the  Brown 
ings  with  whom  a  warm  friendship  arose,  and  many 
other  very  congenial  people.  Then  on  one  of  her 
return  journeys  she  had  the  pleasure  of  having  for 
companions  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields. 

Among  the  happiest  times  that  Mrs.  Stowe  had 
were  the  social  gatherings  in  England  with  some 
of  these  literary  friends.  Seated  at  dinner  where 
there  were  perhaps  thirty  or  more  at  the  table,  with 
Macaulay  at  her  right  and  Milman  at  her  left,  she 
was  sometimes  embarrassed  with  riches ;  she  wanted 
to  hear  what  they  were  both  saying;  but  by  the  use 
of  the  faculty  by  which  we  play  the  piano  with 
both  hands,  she  got  on,  she  said,  very  comfortably. 

We  can  quite  imagine  that  in  these  conversations 
it  must  have  been  sometimes  a  little  startling  to 
have  this  fresh  vivid  intelligence  turned  upon  the 
customs  that  have  in  England  had  the  benefit  of 
long  settled  tradition.  At  one  dinner  she  said  that 
it  had  always  seemed  to  her  a  curious  thing  that 
in  the  height  of  English  civilization  one  vestige  of 
savagery  should  remain,  namely,  sending  a  whole 
concourse  of  strong  men  out  to  hunt  a  single  poor 

236 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

little  fox  or  hare,  creatures  so  feeble  and  insignifi 
cant  who  can  do  nothing  to  defend  themselves;  to 
her  it  hardly  seemed  consistent  with  manliness. 
Now,  she  said,  if  you  had  some  of  our  American 
buffaloes,  or  a  Bengal  tiger,  the  affair  would  be 
something  more  dignified  and  generous.  The  gen 
tlemen  who  heard  this  only  laughed  and  went  on 
to  tell  more  stories  about  fox  hunting! 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  of  course  confronted  with  the 
traditional  question  as  to  how  the  English  ladies 
compared  with  those  of  America  in  beauty.  When 
her  turn  came  she  said  within  herself,  "Now  for 
it,  patriotism!"  Then  she  assured  the  questioner 
that  she  had  never  seen  more  beautiful  women  any 
where  than  she  had  in  her  own  country.  But  she 
had  to  admit  that  the  English  ladies  held  their 
beauty  longer  than  did  those  of  this  country.  Why 
was  it?  Was  it  the  sea  coal  and  fog  that  made 
the  women  of  England  preserve  their  glowing,  ra 
diant,  blooming  freshness  till  long  past  fifty?  Tell 
us,  Muses  and  Graces!  she  cried.  Then  she  sug 
gested  various  reasons :  our  close-heated  rooms,  our 
hot  biscuits  and  hot  corn  cakes  made  with  salera- 
tus,  our  worry  over  maid  service,  our  climate,  and 
so  on.  The  American  woman  is  possessed,  she 
thought,  with  the  ambition  to  do  the  impossible, 
which  is  the  cause  of  the  death  of  a  third  of  the 
women  of  this  country,  and  by  the  impossible  she 
means  that  they  try  to  play  not  only  the  head  of  the 
family  but  the  head,  hand,  and  foot,  all  at  once! 

237 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

Certainly  the  undaunted  bravery  of  the  American 
woman  in  her  difficult  home  arrangements  can 
never  be  enough  admired.  Speaking  of  stoves,  she 
said  that  she  never  saw  one  in  England.  (This  was 
in  1853.)  Bright  coal  fires  in  grates  of  polished 
steel  were  still  the  lares  and  penates  of  old  England. 
If  there  was  one  thing  in  her  own  country  that  she 
was  inclined  to  mourn,  it  was  the  closing  up  of  the 
cheerful  open  fire,  with  its  bright  lights  and  dancing 
shadows,  and  the  planting  on  our  domestic  hearth 
of  that  sullen,  stifling  gnome,  the  air-tight.  She 
agreed  with  Hawthorne  in  thinking  the  movement 
fatal  to  patriotism ;  for  who  would  fight  for  an  air 
tight  ? 

One  of  the  things  that  Mrs.  Stowe  noticed  in 
England  was  that  the  distinguished  people  live  so 
remarkably  public  a  life.  English  newspapers  told 
a  great  deal  more  about  the  concerns  of  the  notable 
people  than  American  papers  tell:  where  the  no 
bility  were  staying  now,  where  they  would  go  next, 
what  they  had  for  dinner,  what  they  wore — all 
these  things  the  English  newspapers  deemed  im 
portant.  And  Mrs.  Stowe  was  surprised  also  to 
have  them  take  somewhat  the  same  interest  in  her, 
even  recording  it  when  she  had  a  dress  made,  and 
complaining  that  she  sent  it  to  a  dress-maker  of 
whom  they  did  not  approve! 

When  Mrs.  Stowe  came  to  France  she  noticed 
the  ready  enthusiasm  of  the  French  for  all  things 
beautiful,  and  she  compared  this  with  the  Puritan 

238 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

Distrust  of  beauty  for  its  own  sake  which  she  had 
seen  and  felt  in  New  England.  She  was,  of  course, 
not  the  only  one  who  has  felt  this  about  our  serious 
forefathers  and  their  view  of  life.  Now  she  had 
found  a  people  that  could  be  equally  enthusiastic 
about  a  barrel  of  potatoes  and  the  adorning  of  a 
room.  She  observes :  "But  did  not  He  that  made 
the  appetite  for  food  make  also  that  for  beauty? 
and  while  the  former  will  perish  with  the  body,  is 
not  the  latter  immortal?"  By  this  we  see  how  far 
the  soul  of  Harriet  Beecher  has  progressed  since 
the  days  when  she  found  her  love  of  literature  a 
snare  in  the  way  of  her  spiritual  progress. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  delighted  with  Paris.  She  was 
released  from  care ;  she  was  unknown  and  unknow 
ing.  She  employed  herself  in  wandering  about  the 
shops,  the  streets  and  boulevards,  seeing  and  hear 
ing  the  life  of  Paris.  She  wished  the  children  at 
home  could  see  these  Tuileries  with  their  statues 
and  fountains,  these  family  groups  under  the  trees, 
the  men  and  women  chatting,  reading  aloud  or 
working  muslin,  the  children  driving  hoops,  playing 
ball,  all  chattering  volubly.  Afterwards  she  was 
able  to  give  the  children  the  opportunity  to  see  all 
this  when  she  brought  the  whole  company  to  spend 
a  winter  in  Paris  to  study  French. 

But  the  relief  from  the  necessity  of  seeing  people, 
which  would  have  been  so  great  a  pleasure  to  her 
if  she  had  not  been  too  tired  for  it,  did  not  stay 
with  her  very  long  in  France,  nor  in  Switzerland 

239 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

whither  they  next  went.  Here  also  the  fame  of  the 
author  had  gone  before  her.  All  knew  the  book; 
they  stood  in  rows  to  see  the  author  and  to  ask  her 
to  write  another  that  should  while  away  their  long 
winter  evenings  as  "Uncle  Tom"  had  done.  "Re 
member,"  they  said,  "our  winter  nights  here  are 
very  long!" 

At  last  they  came  to  Italy.  Here  every  day 
opened  to  her  a  new  world  of  wonders.  And  when 
she  reached  Rome  she  cried  out,  "Rome  is  a  world ! 
Rome  is  an  astonishment !  Rome  is  an  enchantress ! 
Think  of  strolling  leisurely  through  the  Forum,  of 
seeing  the  very  stones  that  were  laid  in  the  time 
of  the  Republic,  of  rambling  over  the  ruined  Palace 
of  the  Caesars,  of  walking  under  the  Arch  of  Titus, 
of  seeing  the  Dying  Gladiator,  and  whole  ranges 
of  rooms  filled  with  the  wonders  of  art,  all  in  one 
morning!  ...  In  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars, 
where  the  very  dust  is  a  melange  of  exquisite 
marbles,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  an  acanthus  grow 
ing,  and  picked  my  first  leaf !" 

It  was  during  her  second  visit  to  Europe  that 
Mrs.  Stowe  met  the  Brownings.  That  was  in 
April,  1857.  Mrs.  Browning  said  of  this  visit  that 
she  and  her  husband  had  been  charmed  by  Mrs. 
Stowe's  simplicity  and  earnestness,  her  gentle  voice 
and  refinement  of  manner.  Never,  said  Mrs. 
Browning,  did  lioness  roar  so  softly ! *  After  that 

1  Dowden's  "Life  of  Robert  Browning,"  p.  206. 
240 


WANDERING    IN    FOREIGN    LANDS 

and  till  the  end  of  the  life  of  Mrs.  Browning,  cor 
respondence  was  carried  on  between  the  two  great 
women,  in  which  the  chief  subject  discussed  was 
the  possibility  of  spiritual  communications  between 
us  and  those  that  have  passed  into  the  other  life. 
Both  these  great  thinkers  believed  that  such  com 
munications  were  within  the  range  of  possibility  if 
we  were  able  to  realize  them  spiritually,  but  not 
through  any  material  means  then  known.  The 
same  warm  and  permanent  kind  of  friendship 
existed  between  Mrs.  Stowe  and  George  Eliot. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  in  Europe  first  in  1853,  again 
in  1856-7,  and  the  third  time  in  1859-60.  In  the 
intervals  she  was  very  hard  at  work  in  her  home 
in  Brunswick,  Maine,  and  afterwards  in  a  new 
home  in  Andover,  Massachusetts,  whither  her  hus 
band  had  been  called  to  the  Theological  Seminary. 
First  she  was  writing  the  "Key  to  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  a  compendium  of  the  facts  and  materials 
she  had  used  in  writing  the  novel.  Following  this 
was  the  second  anti-slavery  work,  a  novel  entitled 
"Dred."  This  was  an  even  more  passionate  treat 
ment  of  the  subject  of  slavery  than  was  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  though  it  did  not  have  the  concen 
tration  and  the  pathos  of  the  latter.  Just  as  a 
novel,  however,  it  marked  an  advance  in  method 
and  handling,  and  if  one  should  look  behind  the 
preaching  one  would  find  a  distinct  promise  for 
finer  workmanship  to  come  in  later  books.  This 
promise  was  fulfilled  in  "The  Minister's  Wooing," 

241 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

"The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island,"  and  "Agnes  of  Sor 
rento/'  three  novels  that  belong  to  this  time  of 
quickening  by  contact  with  the  old  world. 

But  these  years  between  the  time  of  her  first 
novel  and  the  beginning  of  the  sixties  were  the 
days  of  the  drawing  tighter  and  tighter  of  the 
cords,  the  bursting  of  which  was  to  produce  our 
Civil  War.  To  every  varying  of  the  needle  she  was 
sensitive.  To  every  pang  in  her  country's  agony 
she  was  sharply  responsive.  She  wrote  to  a  friend 
in  England :  "Sudden,  sharp  remedies  are  mercy." 
Hating  war,  she  yet  said,  if  by  war,  then  war  it 
must  be. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A   UNIQUE   JUBILEE 

ONE  day  twenty  farmers  came  to  the  Stone 
Cabin  in  Andover  where  the  Stowes  lived 

and  sat  down  with  Professor  Stowe  to 
ask  the  question,  Will  it  be  a  long  war?  And  he 
had  answered  buoyantly,  Oh,  no,  short  and  decisive 
it  will  certainly  be! 

A  year  passed  and  it  was  not  yet  over;  1862 
came  in  and  the  fierce  battles  of  Shiloh,  Cedar 
Mountain,  Manassas  and  Antietam  formed  the 
bitter  record  of  that  one  summer  alone.  In  the 
very  heart  of  the  country  soldiers  by  the  thousand 
from  the  north  and  from  the  south  stood  glaring 
at  each  other,  pressing  forward,  warding  off,  mov 
ing  warily  even  upon  the  critical  spaces  about  the 
city  of  Washington,  while  occasionally  the  Con 
federate  raiders  slipped  through  and  ran  almost  up 
to  the  city  itself.  The  resistance  of  the  Con 
federate  army  was  proving  much  more  stubborn 
than  had  been  dreamed  possible,  and  by  November 
of  1862  long  streets  of  tents  full  of  soldiers  wait- 

17  243 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

ing  for  orders  were  making  white  cities  for  miles 
and  miles  throughout  the  surroundings  of  Wash 
ington.  The  people  began  to  fear  the  horror  of  a 
long,  devastating  war. 

Almost  worse  than  this  was  the  feeling  of  criti 
cism  into  which  discouragement  was  concentrating. 
Grief  at  the  defeats  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac 
was  reacting  in  troubles  among  President  Lincoln's 
advisers.  The  northern  abolitionists  could  not 
understand  why  he  was  so  slow — why  he  did  not 
stop  the  war  at  once.  And  he,  poor  man,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  harassing  executive  difficulties, 
with  personal  sorrow  for  the  recent  death  of  his 
little  son  eating  at  his  heart  and  national  sorrow 
for  the  loss  in  deadly  battle  of  many  hundreds  of 
soldiers  overshadowing  him,  did  not  know  which 
way  to  turn  for  strength,  wisdom  and  good  general 
ship.  "I  cannot  create  generals,"  he  said. 

As  the  month  for  Thanksgiving  Day,  1862,  ap 
proached  it  would  seem  that  no  one  could  have  the 
heart  to  celebrate.  On  the  farms  of  New  England 
and  Ohio  and  Nebraska  the  women  were  beginning 
to  have  to  carry  the  whole  burden  of  home  and 
town.  In  a  New  Hampshire  countryside,  not  far 
from  where  the  Stowes  were  living,  fourteen 
strong  daughters  of  the  mountains  went  one  night 
after  their  own  farm  work  was  done  to  the  barn 
of  an  aged  neighbor  whose  three  sons  had  gone  to 
the  war,  and  before  morning  had  husked  for  him 

244 


A    UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

one  hundred  bushels  of  corn.     This  sort  of  thing 
was  being  done  everywhere. 

As  for  the  homesick  soldiers  in  their  distant 
camps,  certainly  the  approach  of  the  time  for  the 
giving  of  thanks  was  not  specially  welcomed,  for 
they  did  not  know  what  a  day  might  bring  forth 
of  new  horror  and  disaster.  They,  too,  together 
with  statesmen  and  citizens  everywhere,  were  be 
ginning  to  realize  distinctly  that  the  war  was  no 
little  quarrel  to  be  lightly  settled,  but  a  fierce  inter 
locking  of  stubborn  wills.  That  it  was  the  wills  of 
brothers  thus  conflicting  added  to  the  poignancy 
of  their  grief. 

Under  circumstances  so  depressing  as  these,  what 
could  the  governors  of  states  think  of  to  say  in 
their  Thanksgiving  Day  proclamations?  Yet  in 
the  midst  of  the  national  dismay  they  had  the 
courage  and  faith  to  send  out  their  appeals.  They 
called  upon  the  people  to  come  away  and  praise 
God  even  in  the  midst  of  the  gloom.  They  found 
heart  to  be  glad  for  something.  The  war,  for  in 
stance,  had  not  been  followed  by  pestilence — that 
they  could  say;  they  begged  the  people  to  reflect 
that  these  national  chastisements  might  possibly  be 
blessings  in  disguise;  they  besought  them  not  to 
think  of  the  vacant  chairs  and  the  silent  voices  by 
the  home  firesides,  but  instead  to  remember  that 
strength  was  being  given  to  endure;  they  pointed 
out  that  if  the  people  would  give  thanks  in  the 
right  spirit,  it  would  be  for  the  exalted  patriotism, 

245 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

the  heroic  courage,  the  fortitude  and  humanity,  of 
the  soldiers.  "Let  the  high  praises  of  God  be  in 
our  mouth,"  they  quoted,  "and — the  two-edged 
sword  in  our  hand!" 

In  the  Stone  Cabin  at  Andover  there  was  one 
in  whose  heart  the  whole  terrible  drama  was  being 
enacted  as  if  it  were  an  oppressive  and  unbearable 
nightmare.  "It  is  our  agony,"  she  said.  "We 
tread  the  wine  press  alone.  We  are  in  the  throes 
and  ravings  of  the  exorcism."  The  heart  of  Mrs. 
Stowe  had  been  broken  by  the  loss  of  her  eldest 
son  by  the  accident  of  drowning.  Now  she  was 
called  upon  to  make  another  supreme  sacrifice  in 
giving  up  a  son  to  the  service  of  her  country. 
Could  she  rejoice  and  give  thanks? 

With  a  sad  patience  she  accepted  an  invitation  to 
come  to  Washington  and  join  in  helping  people 
even  more  stricken  than  herself  to  a  little  Thanks 
giving  cheer.  The  response  in  the  capital  city  to 
the  appeal  for  Thanksgiving  testimonials  had  been 
as  generous  as  the  limited  and  disastrous  circum 
stances  would  allow.  For  the  city  itself  was  at 
this  time  one  great  hospital  of  wounded  soldiers; 
the  churches  and  public  buildings  were  all  filled  with 
the  maimed,  the  sick  and  the  suffering,  who  had 
been  brought  there  after  the  battles  of  the  summer 
and  fall.  Not  every  one,  however,  was  in  hospital 
and  those  that  were  well  made  the  sufferers  have 
a  happy  day.  There  were  banquets  for  the  convales 
cents,  and  banquets  for  the  men  in  temporary  hos- 

246 


A   UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

pitals  in  the  Patent  Office,  the  Church  of  the  Ascen 
sion,  the  Armory,  the  Marine  Barracks  and  else 
where. 

The  regiments  of  Union  soldiers  were  not  the 
only  special  guests  of  the  season  that  were  gathered 
in  large  numbers  in  and  near  the  city.  Many  hun 
dreds  of  negroes  who  had  heard  the  call  of  freedom 
on  the  plantations  of  the  south  and  had  managed  to 
escape  from  their  masters  and  to  make  their  way 
through  the  military  cordons  had  come  to  the  city 
as  to  a  harbor  of  refuge.  When  the  last  Thursday 
in  November  drew  near  good  friends  planned  to 
give  to  those  desolate  people  a  home-like  Thanks 
giving  dinner  that  would  gladden  their  hearts  and 
give  them  a  foretaste  of  what  freedom  was  to 
mean  to  them.  Encouraging  speeches  were  to  be 
made  and  distinguished  people  from  various  parts 
of  the  country  were  invited  to  come.  It  was  to  this 
sorrowful-happy  banquet  that  Mrs.  Stowe  had  been 
asked,  and  she  was  the  more  willing  to  make  the 
journey,  since  she  hoped  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
see  her  son,  Frederick,  who  was  staying  near  the 
city  with  his  regiment,  the  First  Massachusetts  In 
fantry.  She  had  also  another  great  purpose  in 
coming,  as  will  soon  appear. 

The  Contraband  Dinner,  as  the  dinner  of  the 
freed  men  was  called,  was  held  on  November  27, 
1862,  in  the  church  that  had  been  used  as  a  hospital 
and  place  of  rendezvous  for  the  freedmen's  camp 
at  the  end  of  Twelfth  Street  East.  As  Mrs.  Stowe 

247 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

entered  the  room  she  saw  that  a  great  deal  of 
affectionate  pains  had  been  spent  in  decorating  it 
for  the  occasion.  Garlands  of  evergreen  had  been 
hung  all  about,  and  wreaths  encircled  the  portraits 
of  great  people  who  had  been  working  for  the 
cause  of  the  down-trodden.  Back  of  the  platform 
were  the  picture  of  the  President  with  the  mottoes, 
"God  bless  Abraham  Lincoln,"  and  "Liberty  to  the 
Captive."  Upon  the  walls  were  arranged  the  por 
traits  of  various  sympathizers  and  philanthropists : 
Senator  Pomeroy  and  Professor  Stowe,  Horace 
Greeley  and  General  Wadsworth  were  in  one  group, 
and  the  professors  from  Oberlin — Finney,  Morgan, 
Dascomb  and  Coles,  with  Thomas  Clarkson  and 
Horace  Mann  were  in  another  circle.  Another 
group,  whose  connection  will  perhaps  be  a  puzzle, 
contained  Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  Queen 
Hortense,  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  Charles  V,  Gen 
eral  Cavaignac  and  General  Havelock.  Elsewhere 
on  the  walls  were  also  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Fry,  John 
Bunyon,  John  Knox,  Hugh  Miller,  Peter  Melanch- 
thon,  Mozart  and  Haydn.  Under  this  array  of  in 
spiring  portraits  tables  with  a  comfortable  supply 
of  good  things  to  eat  were  spread  for  some  hun 
dreds  of  guests. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  accompanied  by  a  daughter 
and  by  her  little  son,  Charles  Edward.  To  greet 
them  at  the  foot  of  the  platform  stood  the  Rev. 
John  Pierpont  with  Bishop  Payne,  Senator  Pome 
roy,  Dr.  Channing  and  other  celebrities.  Mrs. 

248 


A   UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

Stowe's  thoughts,  however,  were  more  with  the 
wonderful  audience  that  was  beginning  to  gather 
than  with  the  speakers  who  were  to  make  the  ad 
dresses.  It  was  a  marvelous  sight  that  greeted  her 
eyes  as  she  took  her  seat  and  looked  out  over  the 
white  expanse  of  the  tables  that  filled  the  audience 
room  of  the  church.  Already  the  long  procession 
of  strange  guests  was  riling  in;  from  the  platform 
they  looked  like  rivers  of  inky  blackness  flowing 
through  the  aisles  and  around  the  table.  To  the 
eyes  of  Mrs.  Stowe  it  was  a  tragic  scene,  for  she 
knew  that  these  poor  people  had  made  their  escape 
with  untold  sufferings.  She  saw  that  many  were 
still  in  the  tattered  garments  they  had  worn  as  they 
crept  through  the  swamp;  some  had  no  jacket  or 
coat  at  all  but  only  a  hempen  sack  with  holes  cut 
through  for  head  and  arms.  But  the  look  in  their 
eyes  was  something  wonderful  to  see! 

The  guests  took  their  places  at  the  tables  which 
were  loaded  with  meat,  cake  and  fruits.  One  table 
also  held  a  great  pyramidal  cake  with  an  inscrip 
tion  that  read,  "To  the  Contrabands,  from  the  Con 
traband  Relief  Association,"  and  the  banquet  began. 
At  the  beginning  prayer  was  offered  by  Bishop 
Payne  and  then  the  contrabands  were  invited  to 
fall  in,  and  the  food  began  to  disappear  rapidly. 
When  one  tableful  had  been  well  supplied  the 
Superintendent  said,  "Men,  you  who  have  been 
eating,  take  something  In  your  hands  and  give  place 
to  others.  There,"  he  added,  "don't  take  the 

249 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

plates !"  At  this  point  the  disappearance  of  drum 
sticks,  et  cetera,  was  marvelous  to  behold. 

After  some  two  thousand  contrabands  had  been 
fed  the  company  on  the  platform  adjourned  to  an 
improvised  speakers'  stand  where  the  addresses 
were  made.  Dr.  Channing  presided  and  Senator 
Pomeroy  repeated  once  more  to  these  poor  freed- 
men  the  heavenly  news  that  they  had  a  good  right 
to  be  where  they  were,  and  that  universal  freedom 
was  at  hand.  This  was  a  story  that  they  could  not 
hear  told  too  often;  it  made  every  swarthy  face  in 
the  room  glow  with  broad  delight  and  every  voice 
break  forth  into  shouts  of  joy.  No  wonder  that 
from  every  throat  burst  that  one  great  song,  that 
psalm  of  their  modern  exodus,  "Go  Down,  Moses." 

When  Israel  was  in  Egypt  Land — 

Let  my  people  go ! 
Oppressed  so  hard  they  could  not  stand — 

Let  my  people  go ! 
Go  down,  Moses, 
'Way  down  in  Egypt  Land; 
Tell  oF  Pharaoh 

To  let  my  people  go ! 
Stand  away  dere, 
Stand  away  dere, 

Let  my  people  go ! 

This  most  famous  of  negro  melodies  had  so  strange 
a  moving  power  that  the  negroes  all  through  the 
south  had  been  forbidden  to  use  it  because  it  made 
them  so  wild  for  freedom  that  nothing  could  re- 

250 


A    UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

strain  them.  But  these  freedmen  had  come  through 
fire  and  water  to  reach  a  place  where  they  could 
shout  it  out  freely;  and  the  rich  and  vital  tones  of 
those  negro  voices  rang  out  the  twenty-five  stanzas 
of  the  hymn  as  their  hearts  rose  in  the  exaltation  of 
the  hour.  When  they  came  to  the  line, 

Stand  away  dere,  stand  away  dere, 
And  let  my  people  go ! 


I?  —  i  —  j.1  r  r  —  pp= 

Wen       Israel          was   in 

f   rr  y.  4.  ^ 

Egypt's             land:     Let  my           people            g« 

!         Op- 

feV^4  ;=;        J     J 

$  s  FF  f—  f— 

pressed   BO         hard     they 

L-f-t  (J  '  r- 

could  not  stand:  lit  I 

i  -  i  r 

iy          people               go! 

r  r  c  i  g 

i    r 

r    f  r  i        i 

Go  down,     Moses    '*Way  down      In       Egypt        land,         Tell       ole  Pba-        roab 

_i_i_ _J  )•  ,-f-f ..JLJEfL^j  _j^i  i     ^ 
i    MI 


=F= 

—  -J-  -J- 

let     my 

^-i'       ^ 
people              got 

1  LJ  f  t> 

Stand    a-way    dere! 
J          I         J         I 

-bd 

Stand 
J 

f     (    t   t 

away    dere!  and 
J         J       I     J 

F  1"  ' 

tr- 

-J.  J-  k^ 

let      my                   people 

^         4-     " 

go! 

"  *    r  !•    =4= 

251 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

the  emotional  impulse  of  the  great  appeal  made  an 
uncontrollable  sob  rise  to  the  throats  of  those  that 
heard  it.  The  agony  and  the  faith  and  the  triumph 
of  a  whole  people  seemed  to  breathe  forth  from 
that  great  company  of  rescued  slaves  in  the  minor 
swell  of  this  solemn  chorus.  Here  is  the  simple 
music  that  went  with  this  wonderful  primitive 
song;  but  no  notes  can  give  any  idea  of  the  weird 
and  mystically  yearning  effect  of  it  as  it  was  sung 
by  the  negroes  themselves. 

The  words  of  the  song  went  on  to  record  in  a 
sort  of  ballad  fashion  the  dealings  of  the  Lord 
with  the  Children  of  Israel;  under  this  Old  Testa 
ment  symbolism  the  negroes  always  pictured  them 
selves  as  a  nation  and  felt  they  were  telling  their 
own  sorrows  as  they  followed  the  Bible  story. 

When  Israel  was  in  Egypt's  Land — 
Let  my  people  go ! 

Oppressed  so  hard  they  could  not  stand — 
Let  my  people  go ! 

Go  down,  Moses, 

'Way  down  in  Egypt  Land, 

Tell  ol'  Pharaoh- 
Let  my  people  go ! 
Stand  away  dere, 
Stand  away  dere, 
Let  my  people  go! 

The  Red  Sea  incident  follows: 

252 


A   UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

The  Lord  told  Moses  what  to  do 

To  lead  the  children  of  Israel  through. 

O  come  along  Moses,  you'll  not  get  lost, 
Stretch  out  your  rod  and  come  across. 

As  Israel  stood  at  the  water  side 
At  the  command  of  God  it  did  divide. 

When  they  had  reached  the  other  shore 
They  sang  a  song  of  triumph  o'er. 

The  story  of  the  destruction  of  Pharaoh  they  must 
have  sung  with  special  gusto : 

Pharaoh  said  he  would  go  across 
But  Pharaoh  and  his  host  were  lost. 

Then  comes  a  song  of  hope  for  the  Israelites: 

O  Moses,  a  cloud  shall  cleave  the  way, 
A  fire  by  night,  a  shade  by  day. 

You'll  not  get  lost  in  the  wilderness 
With  a  lighted  candle  in  your  breast. 

A  general  application  follows : 

O  let  us  all  from  bondage  flee, 
And  let  us  all  in  Christ  be  free. 

We  need  not  always  weep  and  moan 
And  wear  these  slavery  chains  forlorn. 

An  exhortation: 

O  brethren,  brethren,  you'd  better  engage, 
For  the  devil  he's  out  on  a  big  rampage. 

The  devil  he  thought  he  had  me  fast 
But  I  thought  I'd  break  his  chains  at  last 

253 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

Then  comes  the  cheering  prospect  of  Heaven : 

0  take  your  shoes  from  off  your  feet 
And  walk  into  the  golden  street ! 

And  this  concluding  stanza: 

1  do  believe  without  a  doubt 

That  a  Christian  has  a  right  to  shout! 

As  the  concluding  strain  of  this  psalm  of  praise 
and  of  prayer  sank  away  into  silence  they  carefully 
led  a  very  old  colored  man  to  the  platform.  This 
was  Old  John  the  Baptist,  as  the  negroes  affec 
tionately  called  him;  he  was  looked  up  to  as  a  sort 
of  patriarch  in  Israel  on  account  of  his  goodness 
and  spirituality.  The  whiteness  of  his  matted  hair 
and  the  deep  furrows  in  his  face  testified  to  the 
many,  many  years  in  which  the  pain  of  slavery  had 
been  burned  into  his  soul.  As  they  assisted  him  up 
the  steps  it  could  be  seen  that  he  was  blind,  and 
a  deep  hush  fell  upon  the  room  as  he  raised  his 
hands  and  lifted  up  his  voice  in  prayer.  He  gave 
thanks  for  the  joy  of  this  day  of  emancipation  and 
for  their  escape  from  the  woe  of  slavery;  he  prayed 
for  the  friends  and  relatives  so  tenderly  beloved 
that  they  had  left  behind,  and,  above  all,  he  prayed 
that  their  feelings  of  joy  and  triumph  at  their  own 
escape  might  not  lead  them  into  vainglorious  pride 
and  arrogance.  The  chief  burden  of  his  prayer 

254 


A   UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

was  that  humility  might  dwell  in  the  hearts  of  his 
people.  "O  God,  keep  us  humble,  keep  us  humble," 
he  repeated.  "Let  not  thy  people  be  puffed  up 
with  pride  and  then  forget  the  God  that  brought 
them  out  of  Egypt  into  Canaan's  land!" 

During  these  simple,  but  most  impressive,  cere 
monies  Mrs.  Stowe  sat  on  the  platform,  her  heart 
throbbing  with  the  tragedy  of  the  scene.  There 
was  a  deep,  absorbed,  dreamy  look  in  her  eyes  as 
she  sat  there  pondering  on  all  this  great  national 
matter.  As  she  looked  out  over  the  vast  assemblage, 
a  fragment  only  of  the  great  exodus  from  slavery, 
she  grew  more  and  more  assured  in  her  mind  that 
the  steps  that  had  been  taken  were  right.  She 
thought  over  what  had  already  been  done.  It  was 
right  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia 
and  to  exclude  it  from  the  territories  of  the  United 
States;  it  had  been  a  good  stroke  for  the  United 
States  to  make  that  treaty  with  Great  Britain  for 
the  suppression  of  the  slave  trade,  making  it  legal 
to  hang  a  convicted  slaver  as  a  pirate.  And  it  was 
clear  to  her  that  the  government  offer  of  compensa 
tion  to  the  slave  owners  in  the  southern  states,  to 
whom  the  negro  was  property,  was  a  just  and  fair 
offer.  She  believed  in  release  from  slavery  as  a 
growth  rather  than  as  a  sudden  cut-off,  and  thought 
that  this  offer  had  been  a  move  in  the  right  direc 
tion. 

Therefore,  she  thought,  it  is  right  and  sensible 
to  lead  up  by  these  steps  to  the  promise  of  full 

255 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

freedom  to  all — which  the  President  had  promised 
—or  perhaps  one  should  say,  threatened,  in  the  im 
portant  document,  the  Emancipation  Proclamation, 
which  he  had  given  out  some  four  weeks  before. 
"Oh,  if  he  only  will  hold  firm  to  this !"  she  prayed, 
"and  if  the  Cabinet  and  the  army  and  the  country 
will  only  stand  by  him!" 

Then  she  thought  of  her  soldier  son  and  she 
remembered  the  other  mothers  who  had  given  their 
boys  to  the  country's  need.  With  a  gush  of  agony 
came  the  reflection  that  for  the  mothers  to  go  them 
selves  and  to  give  their  own  lives  would  have  been 
so  much  easier! 

As  these  heavy  thoughts  were  passing  through 
her  mind  a  thousand  men  just  out  of  slavery  were 
looking  toward  the  quiet  little  woman  on  the  plat 
form  who  in  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  had  so  mar- 
velously  told  their  story.  There  were  many  among 
the  freedmen  present  who  had  been  able  to  acquire 
the  valuable  and  dangerous  art  of  reading  printed 
words,  and  who  had  read  the  wonderful  story  Mrs. 
Stowe  had  written.  There  were  others  who  had 
listened  breathlessly  behind  closed  doors  in  their 
little  cabins  while  the  book  was  being  read  in  low 
tones  to  them.  So  a  great  glow  of  grateful  love 
was  being  poured  out  in  the  direction  of  that  in 
conspicuous  member  of  the  distinguished  company, 
for  they  felt  that  they  knew  her  heart.  As  the 
last  strains  of  "Go  down,  Moses"  were  fading  away 
and  the  company  was  dispersing,  an  aged  negress 

256 


A   UNIQUE    JUBILEE 

met  Mrs.  Stowe  in  the  doorway  and,  lifting  up  her 
hands  in  blessing,  cried  out,  "Bressed  be  de  Lord 
dat  brought  me  to  see  dis  first  happy  day  of  my 
life!  Bressed  be  de  Lord!" 

At  this  time  Mrs.  Stowe  must  have  looked  very 
much  like  the  picture  which  is  reproduced  as  the 
frontispiece  to  this  book,  which  is  taken  from  a 
carte  de  visit e  made  in  1862.  At  this  meeting  we 
may  imagine  her  as  this  picture  shows  her,  but  we 
must  add  perhaps  some  kind  of  shawl  or  drapery 
for  warmth,  a  pair  of  black  silk  mitts  of  ornamented 
net,  and  a  bonnet  tied  with  wide  ribbons  in  a  double 
bow  knot  under  the  chin.  This  bonnet  must  have 
concealed  the  abundant  hair  coiled  up  at  the  back, 
but  not  the  soft  wavy  brown  folds  that  came  down 
on  either  side  of  the  beautiful,  refined  face.  The 
large  breast-pin  in  the  picture  was  made  from  a 
piece  of  softly  clouded  lava;  the  ring,  worn  in  the 
fashion  of  the  day  on  the  first  finger,  had  belonged 
to  her  son  who  was  drowned  while  in  college;  this 
ring  she  wore  and  jealously  guarded  for  his  sake. 
Many  people  who  knew  Mrs.  Stowe  pronounce  it 
one  of  the  best  likenesses  of  her  that  we  possess. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A   VISIT   TO    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

MRS.  STOWE  spent  the  next  day  after  the 
freedmen's  jubilee  in  driving  frantically 
from  fort  to  fort  in  search  of  the  proper 
officer  to  give  her  permission  to  extract  her  son 
Fred  far  a  time  from  the  military  harness.  She 
was  afraid  they  would  not  let  him  come  with  her; 
at  last,  however,  she  succeeded,  and  she  was  never 
happier  than  when  he  sprang  into  the  carriage,  free 
for  forty-eight  hours.  He,  too,  was  filled  with  un 
controllable  delight.  "Oh!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  sort 
of  rapture,  "this  pays  for  a  year  of  hard  fighting 
and  hard  work!"  A  year  ago  she  had  bade  him 
farewell  at  Andover,  and,  after  the  trip  of  his 
regiment  to  New  York,  she  had  again  seen  him 
for  an  hour.  At  that  time  she  found  him  even 
in  the  two  days'  experience  of  soldierly  life 
mysteriously  changed — an  expression  of  gravity 
and  care  marking  his  face.  "It  is  thus  that  our 
boys,"  she  said  in  her  heart,  "come  to  manhood  in 
a  day!"  But  what  she  felt  at  that  time  was  as 

258 


A   VISIT   TO   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

nothing  to  the  feelings  that  were  now  hers  when 
this  war-worn  man  came  to  her  arms !  For  he  was 
a  lieutenant,  having  been  promoted  for  bravery  on 
more  than  one  field. 

That  evening  in  a  quiet  little  parlor,  by  a  bright 
coal  fire,  she  sat  with  three  children  around  her, 
the  young  lieutenant,  a  daughter,  and  the  little  son 
who  lives  now  to  remember  the  events  of  this  Wash 
ington  visit.  Her  cup  was  as  full  of  joy  as  any 
mother's  could  be  who  yet  must  think  what  the 
fortune  of  war  might  mean  to  many  a  mother's 
breaking  heart. 

It  is  now  time  to  refer  to  the  matter  that  Mrs. 
Stowe  had  in  mind  as  one  of  the  reasons  for  com 
ing  to  Washington.  During  all  these  days  she  was 
carrying  one  special  burden — something  that 
seemed  to  her  to  be  of  national  importance  and 
also  a  matter  of  personal  responsibility.  To  under 
stand  what  this  was  we  must  recall  the  "Affec 
tionate  and  Christian  Address"  which  had  been 
signed  by  those  five  hundred  thousand  women  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  by  duchesses,  countesses, 
wives  of  generals  and  ambassadors,  savants  and 
men  of  letters,  as  well  as  by  hands  evidently  unused 
to  hold  the  pen.  This  "Address"  had  been  sent  to 
"their  sisters,  the  women  of  the  United  States  of 
America,"  through  that  most  representative  of 
American  women,  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  appeal 
ing  to  them  to  aid  in  the  removal  of  slavery  from 
the  Christian  world. 

18  259 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

"We  acknowledge  with  grief  and  shame,"  they 
said,  "our  heavy  share  in  this  great  sin.  We  ac 
knowledge  that  our  forefathers  introduced,  nay, 
even  compelled  the  adoption  of  slavery  in  those 
mighty  colonies.  We  humbly  confess  it  before 
Almighty  God ;  and  it  is  because  we  so  deeply  feel 
and  unfeignedly  avow  our  own  complicity  that  we 
now  venture  to  implore  your  aid  to  wipe  away 
our  common  crime  and  our  common  dishonor." 

Mrs.  Stowe  knew  that  her  answer  to  this  im 
portant  letter  would  be  a  national  matter — she 
could  not  make  it  otherwise.  She  must  review  the 
intricate  history  of  the  slave  system  and  face  its 
present  problems,  not  one  of  the  least  of  which 
was  the  fact  that,  in  spite  of  letters  and  addresses 
to  the  contrary  by  an  illuminated  few,  the  great 
body  of  English  sympathy  was  now  being  given  to 
that  party  in  this  country  that  favored  slavery. 
Therefore,  the  international  situation  was  in  a 
specially  critical  state.  It  seemed  even  possible  that 
England  as  a  nation  would  give  aid  to  the  forces 
that  were  trying  to  tear  our  republic  apart.  Mrs. 
Stowe  saw  that  now  in  the  fall  of  1862  this  was 
one  of  the  greatest  causes  of  apprehension.  That 
this  state  of  feeling  should  follow  the  outburst  of 
enthusiasm  for  freeing  the  slaves  that  she  herself 
had  witnessed  all  over  England  and  Scotland, 
seemed  to  her  incomprehensible  and  heart-breaking, 
and  it  made  her  feel  that  she  must  not  let  the 
answer  to  the  "Address"  remain  in  the  logic  of 

260 


A    VISIT    TO    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

events  only,  but  that  it  now  called  for  some  direct 
expression  from  the  one  to  whom  it  had  been  in 
trusted. 

Under  the  circumstances  what  she  should  say 
in  her  public  letter  was  a  very  delicate  matter. 
She  might  describe  the  various  important  prepara 
tory  steps  that  the  President  had  already  taken; 
and  she  might  describe  the  proclamation  just  given 
out,  that  document  we  now  consider  to  have  ushered 
in  the  political  regeneration  of  the  American  people, 
in  which  the  President  had  made  solemn  announce 
ment  that  unless  by  the  following  January  the 
states  now  in  rebellion  laid  down  arms  to  signify 
that  they  abandoned  the  system  of  slavery,  the 
emancipation  of  all  slaves  in  those  states  would  at 
once  be  enforced. 

So  far,  so  good.  She  could  tell  what  had  been 
already  done ;  but  how  much  might  happen  between 
now  and  January  i,  1863!  What  battles  and  con 
quests  and  losses  might  be  written  upon  our  scroll ! 
What  a  test  the  national  spirit  might  be  put  to! 
What  failures  were  perhaps  possible!  As  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  Browning  in  an  anxious  hour  said  in 
one  of  her  last  letters :  "What  I  feared  most  was 
that  the  north  would  compromise;  and  I  fear  still 
that  they  are  not  heroically  strong  on  their  legs 
on  the  moral  question  (meaning  slavery).  I  fear  it 
much.  If  they  can  but  hold  up  it  will  be  noble." 
And  this  expresses  the  better  side  of  England's 
interest  in  our  national  problem. 

261 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

Mrs.  Stowe's  heart  cried,  "We  cannot,  we  must 
not  fail!"  But  she  had  the  wisdom  to  see  that 
her  opinion  needed  to  be  bolstered  up  by  some 
more  weighty  judgment.  So  she  said  to  herself, 
"When  I  go  to  Washington  I  will  try  to  see  the 
heads  of  departments  and  satisfy  myself  that  I  may 
refer  to  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  as  a  reality, 
for  I  should  be  sorry  to  call  the  attention  of  my 
sisters  in  Europe  to  an  impotent  conclusion.  And 
I  mean  to  have  a  talk  with  Father  Abraham  himself 
if  possible." 

For  her  to  gain  an  interview  with  President 
Lincoln  was  comparatively  easy,  for  one  member 
of  the  President's  Cabinet,  Mr.  Salmon  P.  Chase, 
now  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  was  an  old  Ohio 
friend  of  hers.  Years  back,  in  Cincinnati,  he  had 
been  a  member  of  the  Semi-colon  Club.  It  was 
natural  that  this  former  friend  should  now  find  it 
easy  to  arrange  for  Mrs.  Stowe  to  call  upon  Presi 
dent  Lincoln  and  to  have  a  quiet  conversation 
with  him.  Her  son,  Charles  Edward,  twelve  years 
old,  who  still  remembers  the  distinguished  event  of 
that  day  as  though  it  had  happened  yesterday, 
and  her  grown-up  daughter,  Harriet,  accom 
panied  her.  It  was  a  wonderful  experience  for 
them.  The  White  House  with  its  Ionic  pillars 
seemed  to  young  Charles  a  palace  of  dreamland ;  as 
they  passed  through  the  halls  and  caught  a  glimpse 
through  an  open  door  of  the  wonderful  East  Room 
where  the  carpet,  selected  for  that  room  by  Mrs. 

262 


A   VISIT   TO   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

Lincoln,  was  of  a  pale  green  tapestry  worked  with 
flowers,  it  must  have  seemed  to  him  that  the  gleam 
ing  transparent  waves  of  the  ocean  were  tossing 
roses  to  his  feet.  They  were  conducted  up  a  stair 
case  and  taken  to  the  President's  reception  parlor, 
then  called  the  Red  Room,  where  the  interview  was 
to  be  held.  Though  the  room  was  richly  furnished, 
it  seemed  like  a  quiet  and  cozy  place  to  the  little 
boy.  Perhaps  this  was  because  it  was  a  dark  chilly 
day  and  there  was  a  bright  wood  fire  burning  in 
the  fireplace. 

The  President  was  sitting  before  the  fire  as  they 
entered.  His  gaunt  figure  was  bowed  in  a 
melancholy  attitude,  and  he  was  warming  his  hands 
by  turning  them  first  the  palms  toward  the  flame 
and  then  the  backs,  seemingly  just  for  the  sheer 
enjoyment  of  the  genial  warmth. 

Overcome  by  a  natural  feeling  of  reverence  for 
the  great  man  into  whose  presence  they  were  being 
ushered,  Mrs.  Stowe  and  her  little  group  held  back 
for  a  moment  and  waited;  but  Mr.  Chase  led  them 
forward  and  told  the  President  that  he  had  brought 
Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  to  visit  him.  With 
that  awkwardness  which  is  one  of  our  most  appeal 
ing  memories  of  him,  Mr.  Lincoln  rose  quickly  from 
his  chair,  revealing  his  whole  six  feet  and  four 
inches  of  height,  and  came  forward  eagerly.  "Why, 
Mrs.  Stowe,"  he  exclaimed,  holding  out  his  hand, 
'Tm  right  glad  to  see  you!"  Leading  her  to  a 
chair,  he  added  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  his 

263 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

eye,  "So  you're  the  little  woman  who  wrote  the 
book  that  made  this  great  war."  With  this 
pleasantry  they  sat  down  together  before  the  fire. 

The  first  thing  he  said  was,  "I  do  love  an  open 
fire;  I  always  had  one  to  home."  The  homely 
phrase  "to  home!"  How  near  it  seemed  to  bring 
him!  Like  all  the  other  common  expressions  he 
used,  it  only  made  us  love  him  more !  His  advisers 
used  sometimes  to  try  to  get  him  to  write  in  a  more 
polished  manner,  but  he  would  say,  "Well,  it  may 
not  be  so  elegant  or  classical,  but  the  people  will 
understand  it,  the  people  will  understand  it !"  And 
they  always  did.  Mrs.  Stowe  could  hardly  have 
been  more  effectually  made  to  feel  "to  home"  than 
she  was. 

In  response  to  the  President's  humorous  remark 
about  her  book,  Mrs.  Stowe  no  doubt  answered,  as 
she  so  many  times  did,  by  disclaiming  any  intention 
to  do  anything  except  to  obey  the  inner  voice  that 
commanded  her  to  write.  "I  did  not  write  it,  not 
I  myself  alone,"  she  always  said.  "It  seemed  to  me 
that  God  himself  made  me  write  it,  that  I  wrote 
it  at  his  dictation."  And  Lincoln,  from  the  depths 
of  his  profoundly  reverent  nature,  probably  an 
swered  that  he  could  understand  how  that  could 
be  said  with  all  simplicity  and  true  worship. 

Gazing  into  that  homely,  noble,  pain-marked  face, 
and  knowing  so  well  how  many  reasons  there  were 
for  its  look  of  inexpressible  sadness,  her  heart  was 
touched  with  a  great  pity  for  him  as  a  man.  After 

264 


A   VISIT   TO   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

they  had  talked  for  a  few  moments,  some  one 
came  through  the  room  and  spoke  with  him  for  a 
little  while;  then  in  passing  out  the  visitor  said 
casually,  " Where  do  you  dine?"  The  President 
answered,  "Well,  I  don't  dine;  I  just  browse  around 
a  little  now  and  then."  To  the  woman  that  sat 
there  waiting  and  letting  nothing  escape  her  eye, 
there  was  something  irresistibly  pathetic  in  the  tone 
in  which  this  was  spoken.  Where  indeed  could 
President  Lincoln  find  an  hour  of  rest  in  the  midst 
of  his  overweighted  days?  The  whole  city  was 
one  hospital  of  wounded  soldiers,  the  borders  out 
side  were  one  vast  camp  looking  for  battle.  Even 
the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  that  one  firm  stone 
in  the  wide  morass  of  despondency  on  which  the 
wearied  man  at  last  had  set  firm  foothold,  did  not 
just  now  seem  to  lead  toward  the  land  of  promise. 
Struggling  with  an  extraordinarily  difficult  problem, 
he  was  at  that  moment  misunderstood  on  all  sides. 
People  criticized  him  for  what  he  did  and  for  what 
he  did  not  do.  He  was  too  hasty,  he  was  too  slow. 
They  called  him  stupid  blockhead,  satyr,  ape,  gorilla. 
They  named  his  military  plans  imbecility ;  his  humor 
they  took  for  irreverence.  But  Mrs.  Stowe  under 
stood  him,  and  she  somehow  struck  the  note  at 
the  beginning  which  made  them  at  home  with  each 
other.  If  this  had  not  been  the  case,  he  would 
never  have  said  the  things  to  her  that  we  know  he 
did  say. 

Of  her  interview  with  the  President,   however, 
265 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

Mrs.  Stowe  never  gave  any  full  account.  I  suppose 
it  would  not  have  been  right  for  her  to  do  so. 
It  must,  however,  have  been  a  very  illuminating 
hour,  for  her  sketch  of  Lincoln  in  a  volume  called 
"Men  of  Our  Times/'  which  she  wrote  six  years 
later  shows  a  certainty  of  impression  and  an  in 
timacy  of  view  that  could  only  have  come  from 
personal  knowledge.  Moreover,  she  tells  us  defi 
nitely  of  several  things  that  were  said;  and  from 
these  as  well  as  from  references  in  that  sketch,  and 
from  the  influence  of  this  conversation  upon  the 
"Reply"  to  the  English  "Address"  which  she  was 
writing  on  the  evening  of  the  day  when  she  saw 
the  President,  and  from  what  we  know  was  dwell 
ing  in  the  mind  of  the  President  and  in  hers  in 
this  month  of  November  in  1862,  we  may  to  some 
extent  reorganize  that  hour  of  vital  converse  be 
tween  two  souls  that  were  sharing  in  the  heavy  woe 
of  the  national  conflict. 

As  early  in  the  conversation  as  possible,  she 
called  his  attention  to  the  "Address"  on  the  part 
of  the  five  hundred  thousand  women  of  England 
who  had  spoken  to  the  women  of  America  through* 
her,  and  of  the  necessity  that  was  upon  her  now 
to  answer. 

"They  have  called  upon  us,"  she  said,  "in  the 
name  of  a  common  origin,  a  common  faith,  and  a 
common  cause.  They  have  said :  'We  appeal  to 
you  as  sisters,  as  wives,  and  as  mothers,  to  raise 
up  your  voices  to  your  fellow-citizens,  and  your 

266 


A    VISIT   TO    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

prayers  to  God,  for  the  removal  of  this  affliction 
and  disgrace  from  the  Christian  world/  Now," 
she  continued,  "in  this  eight  years  we  have  been 
answering  this  appeal.  Step  after  step  has  been 
taken;  chain  after  chain  has  fallen;  now  the  day 
of  emancipation  has  been  set.  Mr.  President,  it  is 
of  that  that  I  must  speak  with  you  to-day."  Thus 
Mrs.  Stowe  brought  forward  the  question  that  was 
pressing  upon  her  mind.  "Mr.  Lincoln,"  she  said, 
"I  feel  that  I  must  ask  you  about  your  views  on 
emancipation."  At  this  point  the  President  with 
drew  with  her  to  the  embrasure  of  a  window-seat, 
where  they  sat  together  for  an  hour  or  more  in 
uninterrupted  conversation. 

Mrs.  Stowe  had  much  to  tell  him  about  the  con 
dition  of  thought  in  England  which  she  had  learned 
from  observation  during  her  visits  there  and 
through  the  letters  she  constantly  received  from 
people  of  weight  and  importance  who  were  watch 
ing  with  intense  interest  the  progress  of  our  bitter 
conflict.  He  on  his  part  was  able  to  interpret  to 
her  his  border  state  policy  which  had  been  a  burden 
of  misunderstanding  upon  her  mind;  he  explained 
the  reasons  why  it  had  been  necessary  for  him  to 
proceed  slowly  and  why  the  time  for  a  more  decided 
step  had  come  at  last.  We  know  comparatively 
little  about  the  conversation  that  went  on  by  the 
window,  but  we  do  know  that  these  were  its  sub 
jects.  She  said  that  she  desired,  if  possible,  to 
have  it  made  clear  to  her  that  the  government  was 

267 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

not  to  take  any  steps  backward  in  the  course  on 
which  it  had  started  out,  before  she  could  with 
dignity  write  the  answer  to  the  "Address." 

Abraham  Lincoln  made  it  clear.  He  set  her  mind 
quite  at  rest  on  that  point.  Before  they  parted  he 
said  in  effect  what  he  afterwards  repeated  in  the 
Second  Inaugural :  "If  this  struggle  were  to  be 
prolonged  till  there  was  not  a  home  in  the  land 
where  there  was  not  one  dead,  till  all  the  treasure 
amassed  by  the  unpaid  labor  of  the  slave  should  be 
wasted,  till  every  drop  of  blood  drawn  by  the  lash 
should  be  atoned  by  blood  drawn  by  the  sword,  we 
could  only  bow  and  say,  'Just  and  true  are  thy 
ways,  thou  King  of  Saints !'  ' 

This  was  indeed  a  passage  from  his  inmost  soul. 
Sometimes  a  great  man  has  an  hour  in  which  he 
finds  it  comforting  to  open  his  heart  to  the  com 
passionate  ear  of  a  woman.  Without  disrespect  to 
his  revered  memory  we  may  believe  that  President 
Lincoln  did  on  this  day  find  such  a  relief  in  talking 
with  a  woman  whose  book  with  its  key  and  whose 
letters  and  articles  had  proved  not  only  the  sensitive 
sympathy  and  flame-like  patriotism  of  her  soul,  but 
also  the  statesman-like  grasp  of  her  mind. 

Then  perhaps  in  this  interview  with  its  high 
emotional  tension  there  may  have  come  a  moment 
when  personal  things  could  be  mentioned,  for  I 
do  not  know  how  otherwise  to  account  for  the  great 
confidence  he  reposed  in  her  in  one  of  the  things 
that  he  said  in  that  interview.  Perhaps  the  way 

268 


A   VISIT   TO    ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

may  have  been  opened  by  her  saying  something 
about  her  own  feelings  in  writing  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin."  She  may  have  told  him  how  acutely  she 
suffered  when  she  was  working  on  that  book. 
Elsewhere  she  has  said,  "Many  times,  in  writing 
'Uncle  Tom's  Cabin/  I  thought  my  health  would 
fail  me  utterly,  but  I  prayed  earnestly  that  God 
would  help  me  till  I  got  through,  and  still  I  was 
pressed  beyond  measure  and  above  strength." 
Something  of  this  sort  she  doubtless  told  Mr. 
Lincoln.  To  this  the  President  must  have  listened 
with  full  understanding.  "It  lies  like  lead  on  my 
heart,"  she  would  continue.  "It  shadows  my  life 
with  sorrow.  The  more  so  since  I  feel  for  the 
south  as  for  my  own  brothers,  and  am  pained  for 
every  horror  I  have  been  obliged  to  describe,  as 
one  who  is  forced  by  an  awful  oath  to  disclose 
in  court  some  family  disgrace.  Many  times  I  have 
thought  I  must  die,  and  yet  I  pray  God  that  I 
may  live  to  see  the  end  of  this  struggle." 

These  are  the  words  of  Mrs.  Stowe;  if  she  used 
the  same  words  in  speaking  with  President  Lincoln 
it  would  surely  be  in  response  that  he  must  have 
said  what  we  know  he  did  say  in  some  part  of  this 
conversation,  that  he  did  not  think  that  it  would 
be  given  to  him  to  rejoice  in  the  successful  outcome 
of  the  great  rebellion.  "Whichever  way  it  ends, 
I  have  the  impression  that  I  shan't  last  long  after 
it  is  over,"  was  what  he  said.  Mrs.  Stowe  after 
wards  said  that  she  felt  that  no  man  had  suffered 

269 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

more  or  more  deeply  than  he,  although  it  was  a 
dry,  weary,  patient  pain  that  seemed  to  some  like 
insensibility,  but  was  not — Oh,  never  was  at  all! 
After  he  was  gone  his  countrymen  understood  this 
perfectly.  Mrs.  Stowe  understood  it  then.  She 
said,  "When  we  have  passed  through  this  trouble 
we  shall  think  that  no  private  or  individual  sorrow 
can  ever  make  us  wholly  comfortless.  If  my  faith 
in  God's  presence  and  living  power  in  the  affairs 
of  men  ever  grows  dim,  that  thought  shall  make 
it  impossible  for  me  to  doubt." 

With  her  sensitive  sympathy,  Mrs.  Stowe  prob 
ably  knew  that  Lincoln's  mind  was  dwelling  upon 
his  own  painful  loss  in  the  death  of  his  dear  young 
son  the  spring  before;  and  she,  for  her  part,  was 
reminded  of  the  day  when,  as  she  stood  by  the 
grave  of  the  most  beautiful  and  most  beloved  of 
her  seven  children,  she  learned  the  woe  a  slave 
mother  feels  when  her  child  is  torn  away  from  her. 
She  thought  also  of  the  crushing  sorrow  that  came 
to  her  at  Andover  in  the  loss  by  drowning  of  her 
first-born  son,  Henry  Ellis.  Perhaps  in  this  hour 
of  quiet,  intimate  conversation  she  was  able,  in 
order  to  give  comfort  to  the  man  before  her,  to 
speak  of  these  things,  for  it  is  by  showing  to 
those  in  deep  suffering  that  we  suffer  with  them 
that  we  comfort  them  most. 

And  then  perhaps  she  told  the  President  that  she, 
too,  had  a  son  at  Washington,  and  saw  the  smile 
that  she  remembered  so  well  all  her  life  afterwards, 

270 


A   VISIT   TO   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

light  up  that  homely-beautiful  face  as  he  said,  "One 
of  the  twenty  thousand  encamped  about  the  city?" 
and  she  answered  that  he  was  one  of  that  vast  com 
pany  and  that  he  had  been  made  lieutenant  for 
honorable  service  on  several  battlefields.  And  then 
she  no  doubt  told  how  he  was  one  of  the  first  to 
volunteer  when  the  First  Massachusetts  Infantry 
was  formed.  He  had  been  a  student  of  medicine 
under  Dr.  Holmes,  who  had  tried  to  persuade  him 
not  to  become  a  soldier,  but  to  finish  his  studies  and 
then  go  into  the  army  as  a  surgeon.  The  boy  would 
not  hear  of  this ;  he  threw  his  hat  on  the  floor  and 
cried,  "I  could  not  look  my  fellowmen  in  the  face 
if  I  did  not  enlist.  People  shall  never  say  that 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe's  son  is  a  coward!"  And 
if  in  telling  this  she  took  a  motherly  pride,  who 
shall  blame  her? 

With  this  the  interview  ended.  Mrs.  Stowe  was 
rejoined  by  her  son  and  daughter,  and  the  guests 
took  their  departure.  That  evening  Mrs.  Stowe 
wrote  the  greater  part  of  her  "Reply,"  and  it  was 
soon  on  its  way  to  Great  Britain. 

This  "Reply"  she  wrote  far  more  boldly  and  con 
fidently  than  would  have  been  possible  if  she  had 
not  talked  with  the  President.  She  courteously 
acknowledged  the  compliment  of  the  "Address"  and 
its  great  weight  with  her  and  with  the  American 
people.  She  spoke  of  its  influence  upon  north  and 
upon  south;  and  then  she  recounted  the  history 
of  affairs  in  this  country  up  to  the  Proclamation 

271 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

of  Emancipation  which  was  to  take  effect  in  the 
following  January.  She  spoke  frankly  of  the 
things  that  were  filling  her  with  pain  and  solicitude, 
especially  of  the  lack  of  English  sympathy  toward 
us  in  our  struggle  for  union.  "Alas,  then,  is  it  so  ? 
In  this  day  of  great  deeds  and  great  heroisms 
.  .  .  do  we  hear  such  voices  from  England?" 
She  went  on  to  tell  the  story  of  the  Jubilee  she  had 
witnessed  .the  day  before  and  of  the  psalm  of  the 
modern  exodus,  "Go  down,  Moses,"  sung  by  that 
strange  company  with  all  the  barbaric  fire  of  the 
Marseillaise  and  the  religious  fervor  of  the  old 
Hebrew  prophet.  Giving  free  rein  to  her  impas 
sioned  eloquence,  she  said:  "Sisters  (in  your 
'Address'),  you  have  spoken  well;  we  have  heard 
you ;  we  have  heeded ;  we  have  striven  in  the  cause, 
even  unto  death.  We  have  sealed  our  devotion  by 
desolate  hearths  and  darkened  homesteads,  by  the 
blood  of  sons,  husbands  and  fathers.  .  .  . 
Now  we  beg  leave  in  solemn  sadness  to  return  to 
you  your  own  words :  we  appeal  to  you,  as  sisters, 
as  wives,  as  mothers,  to  raise  your  voices  to  your 
fellow-citizens  and  your  prayers  to  God,  for  the 
removal  of  this  affliction  and  disgrace  from  the 
Christian  world." 

Mrs.  Stowe's  "Reply"  was  published  widely  in 
Great  Britain,  and  was  one  of  the  most  powerful 
agents  in  changing  the  public  sentiment  from  a 
hostile  to  a  friendly  attitude.  Meetings  were  held 
all  over  England  and  the  tone  of  the  speeches  and 

272 


A   VISIT   TO   ABRAHAM    LINCOLN 

of  the  newspapers  and  of  the  discussions  in  Parlia 
ment  was  no  longer  favorable  to  the  division  of 
our  country  into  two  separate  governments,  a  north 
and  a  south,  but  was  for  union  and  abolition.  John 
Bright  wrote  to  Mrs.  Stowe  stating  that  such  had 
been  the  happy  result  of  the  outspoken  and  appeal 
ing  home-thrust  in  her  "Reply."  All  this,  we  must 
remember,  happened  before  the  Battle  of  Gettys 
burg,  which  was  the  crisis  following  the  1862  phase 
of  the  war. 

This  assistance  that  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  be  able  to  give  in  one  of  the 
epoch-making  crises  of  our  history,  was  one  of  her 
great  services  to  our  country.  In  the  next  chapter 
we  are  to  see  how  she  performed  another  real 
service,  for  which  we  owe  her  another  debt  of 
gratitude. 


CHAPTER  XX 

WRITING   STORIES   OF  OLD   NEW   ENGLAND 
LIFE 

HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE  did  for  her 
country  more  than  one  inestimable  ser 
vice  that  should  win  for  her  the  gratitude 
of  her  countrymen.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  besides 
being  a  clarion  call  to  the  world,  happened  also 
to  be  a  book  that  was  to  become  immortal.  This 
was  incidental ;  but  it  was  not  a  small  thing  to  do— 
thus  to  focus  the  attention  of  the  whole  world 
upon  one  American  book.  And  it  was  no  small 
service  to  the  literary  life  and  hopes  of  this  country 
to  write  a  book  that  should,  as  Sir  Arthur  Helps 
said,  "insist  on  being  read  when  once  begun."  On 
the  wave  of  a  great  enthusiasm  of  pity  and  love, 
her  name  was  carried  around  the  globe.  There 
fore,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  it  was  because 
of  her  that  the  famous  British  taunt,  "Who  reads 
an  American  book?"  has  now  been  answered, 
"Everybody!" 

But  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"   although  the  most 
famous,  was  not  the  only  book  that  Mrs.  Stowe 
274 


STORIES    OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

wrote.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  one  of  a  long- 
series  of  novels,  some  of  which  are  to  be  specially 
valued  for  their  historical  import  and  some  to  be 
read  for  the  sheer  enjoyment  of  the  pictures  of 
life  drawn  in  them.  Mrs.  Stowe  was  a  great  story 
teller,  a  true  raconteur.  The  story  flows  from  her 
pen  with  a  delightful  smoothness  and  ease.  In  her 
later  books  she  turned  with  a  very  glad  and  loving 
heart  to  the  portrayal  of  scenes  such  as  she  had 
known  in  her  girlhood  and  of  the  native  and  unique 
spirit  of  that  life  which  was  as  the  very  marrow 
of  her  bones.  We  cannot  be  sufficiently  thankful 
that  the  old-fashioned  Thanksgiving,  the  quilting- 
bee,  and  the  wood-spell  survived  to  the  year  when 
the  seeing  eye  and  the  recording  memory  came  to 
the  Connecticut  parsonage  in  the  person  of  Harriet 
Beecher.  To  every  one  that  values  those  elements 
of  our  national  character  that  were  formed  in  the 
struggles  of  the  heroic  Pilgrim  fathers  and  mothers 
in  the  wilderness  and  their  inspired  successors,  this 
part  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  writing  ought  to  be  doubly 
precious.  Her  work  in  the  books  that  describe  early 
New  England  life  is  a  gift  that  every  impulse  in 
us  of  patriotic  reverence  should  leap  to  acknowl 
edge. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  her  first  book 
of  stories,  "The  Mayflower,"  she  drew  from  the 
rich  field  that  was  her  native  heath.  Uncle  Tim, 
the  hero  of  her  very  first  story,  was.  a  living,  breath 
ing  expression  of  the  New  England  spirit,  and  the 
19  275 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

town,  the  church,  the  ways,  the  turns  and  queer- 
nesses  of  speech  were  of  immortal  simplicity  and 
truth  to  life.  Scattered  through  the  stories  in  that 
book  are  found  little  character  sketches  of  amazing- 
vividness.  How  she  makes  us  see  these  solemn  and 
important  brethren  in  the  church!  Here  they  are, 
Deacon  Enos  Dudley,  solemn  as  an  ancient  Israelite, 
and,  for  contrast,  the  brisk  little  Deacon  Abrams, 
who  came  to  a  meeting  to  manage  things  and  to 
see  that  everything  went  off  rightly ! 

"The  services  Deacon  Enos  offered  to  his  God 
were  all  given  with  the  exactness  of  an  ancient 
Israelite.  No  words  could  have  persuaded  him  of 
the  propriety  of  meditating  while  the  choir  were 
singing,  or  of  sitting  down,  even  through  infirmity, 
before  the  close  of  the  longest  prayer  that  ever 
was  offered.  A  mighty  contrast  was  he  to  his 
fellow-officer,  Deacon  Abrams,  a  tight,  little,  trip 
ping,  well-to-do  man,  who  used  to  sit  beside  him 
with  his  hair  brushed  straight  up  like  a  little  blaze, 
his  coat  buttoned  up  trig  and  close,  his  psalm-book 
in  hand,  and  his  quick,  gray  eyes  turned  first  on  one 
side  of  the  broad  aisle,  and  then  on  the  other,  and 
then  up  into  the  gallery  like  a  man  who  came  to 
church  on  business  and  felt  responsible  for  every 
thing  that  was  going  on  in  the  house." 

The  observant  child  Harriet,  sitting  on  the  bench 
in  the  children's  row  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  in 
the  Litchfield  church,  must  have  watched  these 
grave  deacons  that  seem  so  much  like  story-book 

276 


STORIES   OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

people  as  she  gives  her  accurate  memories  of  them. 

"At  this  instant  Deacon  Enos  Dudley's  mild  and 
venerable  form  arose  before  me,  as  erst  it  used  to 
rise  from  the  deacon's  seat,  a  straight  close  slip  just 
below  the  pulpit.  I  recollect  his  quiet  and  lowly 
coming  into  meeting,  precisely  ten  minutes  before 
the  time,  every  Sunday,  his  tall  form  a  little  stoop 
ing,  his  best  suit  of  butternut-colored  Sunday 
clothes,  with  long  flaps  and  wide  cuffs,  on  one  of 
which  two  pins  were  always  to  be  seen  stuck  in 
with  the  most  reverent  precision.  When  seated,  the 
top  of  the  pew  came  just  to  his  chin,  so  that  his 
silvery  placid  head  rose  above  it  like  the  moon  above 
the  horizon.  His  head  was  one  that  might  have 
been  sketched  for  a  St.  John — bald  at  the  top,  and 
around  the  temples  adorned  with  a  soft  flow  of 
bright,  fine  hair.  ...  He  was  then  of  great 
age,  and  every  line  of  his  patient  face  seemed  to 
say,  'And  now,  Lord,  what  wait  I  for?'  Yet  still, 
year  after  year,  he  was  to  be  seen  in  the  same 
place  with  the  same  dutiful  regularity."  Those  two 
pins  set  precisely  upon  the  deacon's  cuff  ought  to 
be  immortalized  along  with  the  two-pronged  stick 
in  Defoe's  famous  "Journal."  In  either  case  it  was 
not  in  the  least  necessary  to  mention  the  slight  cir 
cumstance  ;  yet  by  the  very  casualness  of  the  refer 
ence  is  given  the  precious  air  of  verisimilitude  that 
the  artist  most  desires. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  one  of  the  earliest  among  us  to 
choose  our  own  ancestral  life  as  a  field  for  story- 

277 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

telling.  To  fix  her  place  in  the  literary  procession, 
we  must  recall  that  it  was  only  in  1849  that  Long 
fellow's  "Kavanagh"  appeared,  and  that  that  great 
book,  "The  Scarlet  Letter"  of  Hawthorne  and 
that  popular  one,  "The  Wide,  Wide  World,"  by 
Sarah  Warner,  were  being  written  at  the  same  time 
that  Mrs.  Stowe  was  writing  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 
"The  Blithedale  Romance"  and  "Queechy"  and 
"The  Lamplighter"  came  in  the  early  fifties.  The 
true  literary  descendants  of  Mrs.  Stowe  in  the  realm 
of  New  England  tales  are  Mary  Wilkins  Freeman, 
Sarah  O.  Jewett  and  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin.  It 
will  perhaps  be  a  help  to  remember,  too,  that  at 
the  same  time  when  Mrs.  Stowe  was  giving  us  our 
racy  Mary  Scudder,  George  Eliot  was  introducing 
Mrs.  Poyser  in  "Middlemarch"  to  the  British 
public. 

In  this  New  England  field  Mrs.  Stowe  had  there 
fore  a  unique  opportunity.  She  had  seen  that  life; 
having  been  separated  from  it,  it  grew  precious  to 
her,  and,  as  her  artistic  instinct  developed,  seemed 
worthy  of  preservation.  No  one  else  has  repro 
duced  as  she  has  done  the  first  Christmas  of  New 
England,  the  days  in  the  harbor  of  Cape  Cod,  the 
first  day  on  shore,  Christmas  tide  in  Plymouth 
Harbor,  and  Elder  Brewster's  Christmas  sermon. 
These  were  the  first  fruits  of  the  seed  planted  when 
little  Harriet,  unperceived  in  a  dim  corner  of  the 
garret  study  of  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  began  to  peer 

278 


STORIES   OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

into  the  pages  of  Cotton  Mather's  "Magnalia"  and 
thought  it  an  excellent  storybook. 

Finally  the  more  and  more  highly  developed 
artistic  skill  of  the  novelist  and  the  widened  taste 
of  the  woman,  and  the  deep  and  ineradicable  re 
ligious  nature  of  her  soul  united  in  the  production 
of  the  novel,  "The  Minister's  Wooing,"  a  book  in 
which  Mrs.  Stowe  lets  her  passionate  interest  in 
old  New  England  life  have  full  sway.  It  is  a  story 
built  solely  upon  religious  feeling.  Nothing  like 
it  had  been  done  before,  though  since  she  led  the 
way  myriads  of  novels  like  it  in  this  respect  have 
been  attempted.  It  was  a  torch  borne  onward  into 
the  dark.  Mrs.  Stowe  maintained  the  right  of  the 
soul's  interests  to  a  place  among  themes  fit  for 
artistic  treatment  in  the  novel  as  Elizabeth  Barrett 
Browning  did  in  poetry.  Both  were  pioneers  in 
this  field  of  artistic  endeavor.  But  people  were 
totally  unaccustomed  to  think  of  the  novel  in  the 
terms  of  theology,  and  they  at  once  classed  "The 
Minister's  Wooing"  as  a  theological  treatise.  This 
was  not  in  the  least  true.  It  was  a  novel  pure  and 
simple,  however  seriously  it  dealt  with  the  effects 
on  certain  souls  of  certain  kinds  of  theological  spec 
ulation.  Gladstone  appreciated  the  true  position  of 
the  book.  In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Stowe  he  called  it 
a  "beautiful  and  noble  picture  of  Puritan  life," 
"exhibited  upon  a  pattern  felicitous  beyond  example 
as  far  as  my  knowledge  goes."  Our  knowledge 
also  goes  no  farther,  even  to  this  day. 

279 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

The  "pattern"  shows  us  the  problem  of  a  pure, 
young  New  England  girl,  Mary  Scudder  by  name, 
whose  mind  is  formed  by  religious  aspiration,  of 
the  power  of  which  her  lover  has  no  understanding. 
He  reveres  her  and  she  stands  to  him  as  a  religion, 
as  often  happens  with  a  sincere  and  questioning 
soul.  The  lover  goes  to  sea  and  after  a  while  Mary 
hears  that  his  ship  has  gone  down  and  that  he  is 
lost.  When  a  long  time  has  gone  by  the  Minister 
wooes  her  and,  believing  that  the  lover  is  forever 
gone,  Mary  consents  to  marry  this  man  whom  she 
reveres,  though  she  does  not  give  him  the  love  she 
gave  the  lost  lover.  Shall  I  tell  how  the  story 
comes  out  ?  I  certainly  will  not,  for  that  might  de 
stroy  the  charm  that  this  novel  will  have  for  its 
reader.  And  the  story  must  be  read  to  be  enjoyed. 
For  who  could  give  any  idea  of  the  charm  of  the 
heroine  and  the  manliness  of  the  lover?  There  are 
historic  characters,  Aaron  Burr  and  Dr.  Hopkins 
and  President  Stiles,  delineated  with  genius.  Like 
Shakespeare,  Mrs.  Stowe,  while  disregarding  dates 
and  sequences  of  events,  has  been  loftily  true  to 
the  spirit  of  things.  One  may  look  in  this  book 
for  a  true  picture,  if  not  for  actual  events  in  their 
exact  order. 

The  scene  of  "The  Minister's  Wooing"  was  laid 
at  Newport.  Mrs.  Stowe's  next  New  England 
story,  "The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island,"  gives  a  pic 
ture  of  the  Maine  coast,  not  far  from  Brunswick, 
near  Harpswell,  and  deals  with  a  later  time.  Both, 

280 


STORIES    OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

however,  undertake  the  difficult  task  of  representing 
life  a  century  or  so  back.  Whittier  called  "The 
Pearl"  the  "most  charming  New  England  idyl  ever 
written."  He  liked  it  far  better  than  the  "Minister's 
Wooing."  Its  plot  is  simpler  and  there  are  fewer 
characters;  but  it  has  the  clear  background  of  a 
whole  town  with  its  quiet  life  streaked  with 
tragedy,  as  life  especially  is  along  the  sea  coast 
where  the  waves  take  their  annual  toll  regardless 
of  human  loves  and  ties.  Mara  Lincoln,  the 
heroine,  dies  in  the  midst  of  the  story,  but  her 
loyal  friend,  Sally  Kittridge,  takes  her  place  in  our 
interest;  and  after  many  sea-yarns,  some  ministra 
tions  by  Aunt  Ruey  and  Aunt  Roxy,  typical  char 
acters  of  the  town,  a  touch  of  faraway  Gothicism 
in  the  fact  that  the  body  of  a  beautiful  woman 
floated  ashore  tightly  holding  a  handsome  Spanish 
boy  to  her  breast,  and  the  unraveling  of  the  puzzle 
about  her,  we  are  allowed  a  happy  wedding-bell 
ending  to  the  story  at  last. 

"Oldtown  Folks,"  published  in  1869,  Mrs. 
Stowe  considered  more  than  a  story;  it  was  her 
"resume  of  the  whole  spirit  and  body  of  New 
England."  In  writing  it,  she  tried,  she  said,  to 
make  her  "mind  as  still  and  passive  as  a  looking- 
glass,  or  a  mountain  lake,"  and  then  to  give  "the 
images  reflected  there."  We  are  not,  then,  to  take 
any  of  the  opinions  expressed  in  the  book  as  con 
clusively  Mrs.  Stowe' s  opinions,  but  to  think  of 
her  as  reporting  impartially  the  point  of  view  taken 

281 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE 

by  the  Calvinists,  Arminians,  High  Church  Epis 
copalians,  skeptics  and  simple  believers  in  the  story. 
It  has  been  said  of  Mrs.  Stowe  that  she  remained 
without  change  the  Calvinist,  the  old  New  Eng- 
lander,  the  Beecher,  to  the  end  of  life.  A  close 
study  of  her  work  and  spirit  will  reveal  that  she 
made  the  most  amazing  progress  in  thought,  in 
spirit  and  in  art.  She  herself  knew  this.  One  of 
her  old  friends  who  met  her  at  one  time  rather 
late  in  her  life  was  afraid  of  what  would  happen 
if  she  should  be  told  that  her  friend  did  not  hold 
exactly  the  same  views  as  of  old.  "Why/'  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Stowe,  "I  should  be  ashamed  to  be 
lieve  the  same  this  year  that  I  did  last!"  For 
"Oldtown  Folks"  Mrs.  Stowe  gathered  her  "im 
ages"  in  large  part  from  scenes  reported  to  her  by 
her  husband  as  he  remembered  them  from  his  own 
boyhood.  Together  they  went  to  the  home  of  his 
youth,  South  Natick,  Massachusetts,  and  there 
studied  the  places  where  the  "visionary  boy,"  who 
was  none  other  than  Professor  Stowe  himself, 
passed  through  the  lonely  and  dream-haunted  ex 
periences  of  his  youth.  From  Professor  Stowe' s 
account  of  the  people  and  customs  in  the  old  vil 
lage,  and  from  her  own  memories,  Mrs.  Stowe 
organized  a  picture  of  the  time  a  generation  before 
her  own. 

The  consummate  masterpiece  in  the  work  is  the 
character  of  Sam  Lawson,  a  literary  grandson  of 
the  Vicar  of  Wakeficld,  an  own  cousin  to  Ichabod 

282 


STORIES   OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

Crane,  and  a  sort  of  stepfather  to  Huckleberry 
Finn.  Sam  Lawson  was  a  "tall,  shambling,  loose- 
jointed  man,  with  a  long,  thin  visage,  prominent, 
watery  blue  eyes,  very  fluttering  and  seedy  habili 
ments,  who  occupied  the  responsible  position  of 
first  do-no  thing-in-ordinary  in  our  village  of  Old- 
town."  Why  is  it  that  such  a  character  invariably 
endears  itself  to  our  whole  country?  Mrs.  Stowe 
gives  us  a  sort  of  explanation  of  the  strange 
phenomenon.  She  says  that  the  lovable,  lazy  genius 
and  factotum  of  the  town  was  a  necessary  ap 
pendage  of  every  New  England  village ;  for  Yankee 
life  was  so  "harried  by  work  and  thrift  and  in 
dustry,"  that  society  would  "burn  itself  out  with 
the  intense  friction  if  it  were  not  for  the  lubricating 
power  of  a  decided  do-nothing !"  But  that,  perhaps, 
was  not  all.  Sam  was  the  undeveloped  artist  and 
had  a  touch  of  the  artist's  charm.  He  was  a  great 
singer;  he  could  sing  all  parts,  bass,  tenor,  counter, 
soprano,  going  from  one  to  another  at  any  point 
in  the  midst  of  the  hymn;  and  as  a  story-teller  he 
was  beyond  compare.  ' '  'Why,  didn't  you  ever  hear 
'bout  that?'  "  he  would  begin.  "  'Want  to  know! 
Wai,  I'll  tell  ye,  then.  I  know  all  'bout  it.'  "  And 
with  this  the  story  started  out  and  the  blissful  lis 
tening  of  boys  by  the  roadside  or  of  friends  around 
some  fireside — not  his  own — would  begin.  He  was 
a  New  England  Scheherazade,  with  stories  enough 
to  last  for  a  thousand  and  one  long,  lonely,  winter 
nights.  Sam  Lawson  "filled  this  post  with  ample 

283 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

honor."  He  would  leave  any  work  that  ought  to 
be  done  for  his  wife  and  large  family  of  children 
and  spend  hours  tinkering  some  boy's  knife,  tending 
a  dog's  sprained  leg,  or  baiting  hooks  for  a  troop 
of  boys  in  their  fishing.  He  was  a  soft-hearted 
old  body  and  would  knock  the  fish  in  the  head  to 
put  it  out  of  torment.  "  'Why,  lordy  massy !'  "  he 
would  say,  "  'I  can't  bear  to  see  no  kind  o'  critter 
in  torment.  These  'ere  pouts  ain't  to  blame  for 
bein'  fish,  and  ye  ought  to  put  'em  out  of  their 
misery.  Fish  has  their  rights  as  well  as  any  of 
us/  '  When  Sam  was  engaged  to  put  a  clock  in 
order,  he  would  get  it  all  to  pieces  about  the  kitchen 
and  then  go  away  to  start  in  on  some  other  body's 
job,  saying  that  "  'Some  things  can  be  druv  and 
then  agin  some  things  can't,  and  clocks  is  that  kind. 
They's  jest  got  to  be  humored.  Now  this  'ere's 
a  'mazin'  good  clock;  give  me  my  time  on't  and 
I'll  have  it  so  'twill  keep  straight  on  to  the  mil 
lennium.'  '  Speaking  of  the  millennium  starts  a 
theological  argument  and  under  cover  of  this  he 
leaves  the  kitchen  with  the  clock  wheels  scattered 
all  over,  and  goes  off  fishing.  Sam  Lawson's 
philosophy  of  life  is  summed  up  in  this :  "  'It's 
all  fuss,  fuss  and  stew,  stew,  till  we  get  some 
where;  and  then  it's  fuss,  fuss  and  stew,  stew,  to 
get  back  agin;  jump  here  and  scratch  your  eyes 
out,  and  jump  there  and  scratch  'em  in  agin — that 
'ere's  life.'  " 

Sam  loved  nothing  so  much  as  to  "  'kind  o'  go 
284 


STORIES    OF   NEW    ENGLAND    LIFE 

along  and  sort  o'  see  how  things  turn  out*  "  with 
the  boys.  He  told  them  tales  that  made  their  eyes 
stand  out,  constantly  interspersing  the  incidents 
with  moral  persuasions  and  advice.  "  'So,  boys/  ' 
he  would  say,  "  'you  just  mind  and  remember  and 
allers  see  what  there  is  in  a  providence  afore  you 
quarrel  with  it/  '  With  this  lofty  moral  altitude, 
an  intellectual  superiority  in  Sam  combined  to  make 
him  a  popular  favorite.  For  forty  years  in  the 
village  there  had  not  been  a  marriage  or  a.  birth  or 
a  burial  or  a  slight  beginning  of  a  love-making 
which  he  did  not  know  all  about.  This  knowledge 
made  his  charm  and  also  his  power.  A  great  in 
tellect  had  been  really  wasted  in  this  shiftless  fel 
low.  The  variety  of  his  accomplishments  was 
amazing.  His  work  shop  was  filled  with  cracked 
china,  lame  tea-pots,  rickety  tongs  and  decrepit 
andirons,  and  any  one  of  these  would  afford  op 
portunity  for  hours  of  conversation  if  a  neighbor 
came  in  and  if — important  consideration! — the 
sharp,  black  eyes  of  Hepsy,  his  wife,  were  not  at 
the  minute  upon  him.  Hepsy  was  a  "gnarly,  com 
pact,  efficient  little  pepper-box  of  a  woman/'  Of 
course  if  she  came  in  his  fun  was  over.  'You're 
always  everywhere  but  where  you've  business  to 
be/  "  her  scolding  voice  would  cry  out,  "  'helpin' 
and  doin'  for  everybody  but  your  own.  For  my 
part,  I  think  that  charity  ought  to  begin  at  home/  ' 
Hepsy  was  a  "great  talker."  She  frequently  was 
so  bad  in  this  respect  that  Sam,  who  was  not  a 

285 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

specially  silent  person,  could  not  "get  in  a  word 
edgeways,  nor  cross  ways,  nor  noways."  At  such 
times  no  one  could  blame  Sam  if  he  did  "  'go  In- 
dianing  around  the  country  a  spell  till  she  kind  o' 
come  to.' ' 

The  main  interest  in  "Oldtown  Folks"  is,  how 
ever,  in  a  little  boy  and  girl,  Henry  and  Eglantine 
Percival,  or  Harry  and  Tina  for  short,  who  are 
left  orphaned  and  are  distributed  among  the  homes 
in  the  Calvinistic  and  theological  town.  As  Sam 
Lawson  said,  they  "  'was  real  putty  children,  as 
putty  behaved  as  ever  he  see.' '  Harry  Percival 
is  a  fine,  manly  little  boy  and  Tina,  his  sister,  is 
the  little  witch  whose  buoyancy  and  charm  can 
never  be  crushed  out  of  her  even  by  a  Miss 
Asphyxia.  Ah,  Miss  Asphyxia!  Every  creature 
in  her  service — horse,  cow  and  pig — knew  at  once 
the  touch  of  Miss  Asphyxia;  and  when  it  was  she 
that  said,  ''Get  up!"  the  beast  would  make  the 
wagon  spin.  Into  her  hands  fell  the  hapless  and 
whimsical  Tina.  Miss  Asphyxia  was  past  fifty  and 
her  hair  was  well  streaked  with  gray;  but  this 
would  not  matter  only  that  when  she  did  it  up, 
she  tied  it  in  a  very  tight  knot  and  fastened  it  with 
a  horn  comb;  then  she  gave  it  a  shake  to  see  if  it 
would  certainly  stay  all  day  and  went  about  her 
work.  Her  one  idea  in  regard  to  the  little  fairy 
Tina  was  to  give  her  efficient  discipline.  She  put 
a  brown  towel  into  her  hands  and  said,  "  There, 
keep  to  work/  '  And  when  Tina's  fingers  refused 

286 


STORIES    OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

to  bend  to  the  unusual  task,  Miss  Asphyxia  rapped 
her  promptly  on  the  head  with  the  thimble,  saying, 
"  'Keep  to  work.'  "  When  Tina  began  to  cry  Miss 
Asphyxia  displayed  a  long  birch  rod.  At  night 
when  deluged  with  soapy  water  and  rubbed  with 
bony  hands,  Tina  was  so  suppressed  that  she  could 
only  breathe  out  long  sighs  and  whisper  "  'Oh, 
dear !' '  But  she  was  helpless  in  the  hands  of  Miss 
Asphyxia.  Having  despoiled  the  bright  little  head 
of  its  curls  by  means  of  her  great  shears,  she  rubbed 
some  camphor  on  vigorously  to  keep  the  child  from 
taking  cold;  then,  after  dropping  the  golden  curls 
on  the  fire,  she  opened  the  door  into  a  small  bed 
room  and,  pointing,  said  to  the  child,  "  'Now  go 
to  bed/  '  Tina  crept  in  under  the  blue  checked 
coverlet,  thankful  to  be  free  of  the  dreadful  woman. 
In  a  moment,  however,  her  tormentor  opened  the 
door  again.  Miss  Asphyxia  had  forgotten  some 
thing.  "  'Can  you  say  your  prayers  ?'  she  de 
manded.  'Yes,  ma'am/  faltered  the  child.  'Say 
'em,  then/  said  Miss  Asphyxia;  and  bang  went  the 
door  again.  'There,  now,  if  I  h' ain't  done  up  my 
duty  to  that  child,  then  I  don't  know,'  said  Miss 
Asphyxia/' 

Miss  Asphyxia  and  her  contemporaries  thought 
that  a  child  was  "  'pretty  much  dead  loss  the  first 
three  or  four  years;  but  after  that  they'd  more'n 
pay,  if  they's  fetched  up  right/  '  Miss  Asphyxia 
intended  that  Tina  should  be  "  'fetched  up  right/  " 
Good  old  Sol,  her  hired  man,  suggested  that  per- 

287 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

haps  Tina  cried  at  night  because  she  was  lonesome. 
"'All  sorts  of  young  critters  is,"'  he  argued; 
"  Tuppies  is ;  kittens  mew  when  ye  take  'em  from 
the  cats.  Ye  see  they's  used  to  other  critters;  and 
it's  sort  o'  cold  like,  bein'  alone  is.' '  Miss  As 
phyxia  gave  a  sniff  of  contempt.  "  'Well,  she'll 
have  to  get  used  to  it.  I  guess  'twon't  kill  her.' ' 

When  poor  Tina  broke  a  saucer  and  failed  to 
make  quick  confession,  that  is,  to  speak  with  ac 
curacy,  when  she  did  really  and  truly  let  a  lie  slip 
over  her  lips,  we  can  imagine  what  an  awful  thing 
it  seemed  to  Miss  Asphyxia.  She  proceeded  to  cure 
her  of  lying  by  scouring  out  her  mouth.  Putting 
some  soap  and  sand  on  a  rag  and  grasping  the 
child's  head  under  her  arm,  she  rubbed  the  mixture 
through  her  mouth  with  the  energy  of  an  insulted 
prophetess.  "  'See  now  if  you  will  tell  me  another 
lie,'  "  she  said,  pushing  the  child  from  her,  and  feel 
ing  that  her  own  conscience  was  quite  clear,  what 
ever  might  be  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  culprit. 

But  things  were  coming  to  a  crisis.  Explaining 
the  final  fuss,  Sam  said :  "  'Wai,  ye  see,  the  young 
un  was  spicy ;  and  when  Miss  Sphyxy  was  down  on 
her  too  hard,  the  child,  she  fit  her, — ye  know  a  rat'll 
bite,  a  hen  will  peck,  and  a  worm  will  turn, — and 
finally  it  come  to  a  fight  between  'em.'  " 

Tina's  brother  did  not  fare  much  better  than  did 
the  little  girl.  His  cruel  master  would  not  allow  him 
to  go  to  visit  his  sister  any  more  than  Miss 
Asphyxia  would  have  allowed  him  to  come  in  if  he 

288 


STORIES    OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

had  arrived,  for  she  would  "  'Just  as  soon  ^ave  the 
red  dragon  in  the  Revelations  come  into  her  house 
as  a  boy !' '  Finally  Harry  ran  away,  went  to 
Tina's  window  in  the  night  and  told  her  to  come 
with  him.  They  went  off  together,  wandering  in 
search  of  some  good  people  to  give  them  a  home, 
an  event  in  which  they  had  a  firm  faith.  They 
went  along  the  roads  and  through  the  fields,  play 
ing  that  they  were  Hansel  and  Gretel  in  the  story. 
They  had  the  adventure  of  coming  upon  an  Indian 
encampment  with  a  little  tent  and  an  old  woman 
weaving  baskets.  With  her  they  dipped  succotash 
with  a  clean  clam-shell  from  a  wooden  trough  and 
were  content  and  comforted.  Harry  knelt  in  prayer 
before  lying  down  in  the  tent  and  this  act  made 
the  eyes  of  the  Indian  woman  shine,  for  she,  it 
seems,  was  the  relic  of  a  long  since  Christianized 
tribe.  When  he  was  through  she  said :  "  'Me 
praying  Indian ;  me  much  love  Jesus.' '  The  next 
morning,  however,  the  heathen  husband  came  and 
drove  the  children  away. 

The  children  took  up  their  wandering  and  soon 
came  to  an  old  stately  mansion  with  an  avenue  of 
majestic  trees.  This,  we  were  told,  was  the  Bench 
House,  home  of  a  Tory  family  of  pre-revolutionary 
days  and  now  deserted  with  all  its  furnitures  and 
its  mysteries  until  it  could  be  decided  properly  to 
whom,  under  the  new  order,  it  really  belonged.  In 
this  beautiful  place  they  found  no  giant  waiting  to 
execute  fell  purpose  upon  them,  so  they  built  a 

289 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

fire,  gathered  berries,  and  slept,  until  a  very  human 
and  kind-hearted  giant  came  along  in  the  form  of 
Sam  Law  son  himself,  who  bore  them  to  Oldtown, 
where  the  home  and  the  loving  hearts  they  had  had 
faith  would  appear,  were  awaiting  them. 

So  Tina  and  Harry  came  to  the  home  of  Horace 
Henderson,  the  writer,  as  Mrs.  Stowe  portrays  it, 
of  these  annals.  Horace  and  Harry  became  the 
friends  of  a  lifetime.  Tina  was  passed  into  the  care 
of  Miss  Mehitable  Rossiter,  a  plain- faced  and  true- 
hearted  old  maid.  When  Tina  stood  at  her  knee 
and  looked  up  into  her  homely  face,  Miss  Mehitable 
said :  "  'Well,  how  do  you  like  me  ?' '  Tina  con 
sidered  attentively,  looking  long  into  the  honest, 
open  eyes.  "  'I  do  like  you/  she  said,  putting  out 
her  hands ;  'I  think  you  are  good.' '  Miss  Mehit- 
able  said  that  it  was  well  that  she  did,  for  otherwise, 
as  she  was  a  fairy,  she  might  turn  her  into  a  mouse 
or  a  kitten.  '  1  like  you,  and  I  will  be  your  kit 
ten,  "  said  Tina.  That  night  Tina  slept  in  a  big 
four-poster  bed  with  hangings  of  India  linen,  on 
which  Oriental  pagodas  and  peacocks  and  mandarins 
mingled  together  like  the  phantasms  of  a  dream.  In 
this  pretty  little  bit  of  description  we  have  a  mem 
ory  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  own  childhood  when  she  vis 
ited  the  old  Foote  homestead  at  Nut  Plains,  and 
went  to  sleep  behind  the  famous  bed-hangings  that 
her  Uncle  Samuel  Foote  had  brought  home,  and 
wondered  why  the  mandarins  on  the  printed  India 

290 


STORIES    OF    NEW    ENGLAND    LIFE 

linen  did  not  ring  the  little  bells  in  the  pagodas  and 
why  the  birds  did  not  pick  off  the  golden  fruits  and 
eat  them. 

Thus  the  children  were  safely  landed  on  the 
shores  of  "quality,"  where  they  belonged.  They  be 
came  a  part  of  that  best  of  New  England  connec 
tions,  the  Rossiter  family.  They  came  to  know 
Parson  Lothrop,  his  wig  and  cocked  hat  and,  above 
all,  his  old  shay.  They  paid  reverence  to  his  wife 
also,  the  great  lady,  and  to  her  lady's  maid,  who 
had  "grown  up  and  dried  in  all  the  most  sacred  and 
sanctified  essences  of  genteel  propriety."  Every 
where  Tina  went  she  did  more  good  than  harm. 
Even  to  Lady  Lothrop's  lonely  grandeur  she  was  a 
blessing.  Tina  had  been  told  that  in  the  presence 
of  that  great  personage  she  must  not  talk.  So  the 
active  child  sat  still  as  long  as  she  could  keep  the 
dismal  silence  and  then  burst  forth  in  several  long, 
loud  sighs. 

"  What's  the  matter,  little  dear?'  said  Lady  Loth- 
rop. 

"  'O  dear !'  said  Tina,  'I  was  just  wishing  that  I 
could  go  to  church/ 

'  'Well,  you  are  going  to-morrow,  dear/ 
'  T   just   wish   I    could   go    now   and    say  one 
prayer.' 

"'And  what  is  that,  my  dear?' 
'  'I  just  want  to  say,  "O  Lord,  open  thou  my 
lips,"  '  said  Tina  with  effusion.  ...  'I  am  so  tired 
of  not  talking.    But  I  promised  Miss  Mehitable  that 
20  291 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

I  wouldn't  talk  unless  I  was  spoken  to,'  she  added 
with  an  air  of  virtuous  resolution." 

The  irresistible  child  was  given  permission  to  talk 
all  she  wanted,  and  from  then  on  she  rattled  and 
sparkled  and  went  on  with  a  verve  and  gusto  that 
waked  everybody  up.  The  icy  chains  of  silence  be 
ing  thus  broken,  everybody  talked  and  Lady  Loth- 
rop  looked  from  one  to  another  in  a  sort  of  pleased 
surprise,  for  the  childless  woman  had  a  loving  heart 
beneath  her  decorous  breast. 

All  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  the  story.  Would 
it  be  possible  to  guess  what  is  going  to  happen? 
The  old  Dench  House  with  its  secret  drawers 
should  afford  a  suggestion  to  a  good  guesser,  and 
the  "visionary  boy,"  who  is  the  teller  of  the  whole 
story,  will  think  a  great  deal  about  Tina,  we  may 
be  sure.  A  first-class,  fascinating  rascal  will  be 
introduced  as  new  material,  and  the  threads  of  the 
plot  will  work  up  into  tragic  crises.  Far  be  it  from 
me,  however,  to  make  known  how  it  is  to  come 
out! 

When  "Oldtown  Folks"  was  published,  the  read 
ing  world  was  so  charmed  with  Sam  Lawson  that 
they  cried  out  for  more.  Like  Shakespeare  with 
"Merry  Wives,"  the  writer  had  to  exhibit  a  favored 
hero  under  new  conditions.  More,  more  of  Sam 
Lawson' s  stories,  they  said.  For  the  garrulous  fel 
low  kept  up  his  story-telling  habit  to  the  very  end 
of  the  book,  telling  his  very  best  story  last  of  all; 
therefore,  the  thought  of  the  lazy,  delightful  Sam 

292 


STORIES    OF   NEW   ENGLAND    LIFE 

was  in  the  mind  even  while  the  reader  was  sighing 
over  the  woes  of  Tina.  Hence,  after  a  while  Mrs. 
Stowe  wrote  another  book  called  "Sam  Lawson's 
Oldtown  Fireside  Stories,"  in  which  she  gathered 
some  tales  of  adventure,  ghostly  and  otherwise,  and 
let  Sam  tell  them  in  his  inimitable  way.  To  be 
sure,  everybody  does  not  care  for  such  a  character  as 
Sam  Lawson;  but,  as  he  himself  says,  "  'Wai,  you 
know  there  an't  no  pleasin'  everybody;  and  ef 
Gabriel  himself,  right  down  out  o'  Heaven,  was  to 
come.  ...  I  expect  there'd  be  a  pickin'  at  his 
wings,  and  sort  o'  fault-findinV  ' 

As  Mrs.  Stowe's  first  book  had  been  a  reflection 
of  her  love  for  old  New  England,  and  her  two 
greatest,  considered  purely  from  the  artistic  point 
of  view,  had  also  come  from  the  same  source,  so 
the  last  novel  that  she  wrote,  "Poganuc  People,"  is 
again  an  echo  from  this  music  of  her  youth.  The 
Tina  of  "Oldtown  Folks"  is  said  to  be  modeled 
upon  her  own  daughter,  Georgiana  May;  if  this  is 
so,  the  Dolly  of  "Poganuc  People"  must  be  Harriet 
herself.  In  fact,  a  copy  of  "Poganuc  People"  exists 
with  Mrs.  Stowe's  marginal  notes,  telling  where  it 
is  "exact"  in  its  delineation,  "my  own  experience," 
"my  own  childish  experience,"  "the  whole  chapter 
drawn  from  life,"  etc.  This  book  has  a  pathetic 
and  joyous  interest  as  the  very  tender  memoranda 
of  the  child's  life  recalled  by  that  all-remembering 
mind  in  declining  years. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
A   SERENE   OLD   AGE 

IN  1863  Mrs.  Stowe  removed  from  Andover  to 
Hartford,  Connecticut,  where,  in  a  lovely 
wooded  suburb  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  she 
built  a  house  that  was  her  home  until  the  end  of  her 
life.  Up  to  the  death  of  her  husband  in  1886  she 
spent  the  winters  at  Mandarin,  Florida,  called 
thither  by  the  condition  of  her  son  Frederick,  who, 
at  the  close  of  the  war,  came  back  to  her  in  a  state 
of  broken  health  resulting  from  a  wound  in  the  head 
received  at  Gettysburg.  In  the  end  that  dear  son 
was  a  sacrifice,  one  of  thousands  that  mothers  were 
called  upon  to  make  for  their  country  all  over  the 
land  from  farthest  north  to  farthest  south. 

The  earlier  years  of  this  later  period,  while  bur 
dened  with  family  cares  and  sorrows,  were  a  time 
of  great  literary  activity  to  Mrs.  Stowe.  In  that 
time  she  lengthened  the  list  of  her  books  from  ten 
to  thirty.  Among  these  works  there  were  three 
novels  of  importance,  "Pink  and  White  Tyranny," 
"My  Wife  and  I,"  and  "We  and  Our  Neighbors,"  all 

294 


A   SERENE    OLD   AGE 

studies  in  the  conditions  of  her  own  time,  especially 
in  New  York  City.  Of  "My  Wife  and  I"  Mrs. 
Stowe  said  that  she  wrote  it  for  the  many  dear, 
bright  young  girls  whom  she  numbered  among  her 
choicest  friends;  if  they  liked  the  book,  it  was  no 
matter  what  the  critics  said  of  it !  Then  there  were 
many  stories  for  children,  "Little  Pussy  Willow," 
"Betty's  Bright  Idea,"  "The  Dog's  Mission,"  and 
many  more,  all  as  good  to-day  as  they  were  thirty 
years  ago.  In  conjunction  with  her  sister  Catherine 
she  published  several  books  of  household  papers, 
wise  thoughts  on  house  economy,  on  the  beautiful  in 
the  house,  on  home  religion,  etc.  Several  books 
were  purely  religious  in  their  character;  of  these 
"Bible  Heroines"  is,  strangely  enough,  not  reprinted 
in  her  complete  works.1  A  volume  of  poems  among 
the  number  reminds  us  of  Harriet's  passion  for 
poetry  in  her  childhood  and  of  her  young  ambition 
to  join  the  band  of  immortal  poets,  so  carefully  ex 
tinguished  by  her  eldest  sister.  In  spite  of  Cath 
erine,  however,  Mrs.  Stowe  indulged  her  desire  for 
poetic  expression  every  now  and  then  all  through 
her  life,  as  she  did  also  her  love  for  drawing  and 
sketching,  and  one  of  her  poems,  "The  Other 
World,"  has  been  a  favorite  with  many. 

Beloved  in  her  private  life  and  honored  as  one 
of  the  great  in  our  literature,  Mrs.  Stowe  lived  on 
in  her  quiet  home  at  Hartford  until  her  death  in 

1  A  list  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  works  will  be  found  on  page  304. 
295 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

July,  1896.  On  her  seventy-first  birthday,  June  14, 
1882,  she  was  tendered  by  her  publishers,  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company,  a  tribute  in  the 
form  of  a  garden  party  to  which  many  of  the  liter 
ary  people  of  the  country  were  invited.  It  was  held 
at  the  country  residence  of  the  Honorable  and  Mrs. 
William  Claflin,  at  Newtonville,  near  Boston,  Mas 
sachusetts.  This  beautiful  place,  "The  Old  Elms," 
was  never  more  lovely  than  on  this  perfect  day. 
The  majestic  elms  stood  proudly,  as  if  they,  too, 
felt  the  responsibility.  The  friends  that  came  bore 
the  most  honored  names  among  the  living  writers 
of  the  land.  There  were  Whittier  and  Holmes, 
Louise  Chandler  Moulton  and  Elizabeth  Stuart 
Phelps,  Lucy  Larcom  and  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich 
and  A.  Bronson  Alcott  and  Julia  C.  R.  Dorr.  Of 
Mrs.  Beecher's  family  there  were  a  goodly  number : 
her  three  brothers,  Charles,  Edward  and  Henry 
Ward,  and  her  sister  Isabella  (Mrs.  Hooker),  her 
daughter  Mrs.  Allen  and  her  son  Charles,  being 
among  the  number. 

After  a  time  spent  in  delightful  converse,  the 
company  gathered  in  a  tent  on  the  lawn  and  listened 
to  an  address  by  Mr.  H.  O.  Houghton. 

After  a  tender  word  for  the  memory  of  Long 
fellow  and  of  Emerson;  Mr.  Houghton  said  that 
the  garden  party  was  being  held  in  honor  of  a  birth 
day—but  what  the  number  of  the  birthday  was  we 
would  not  inquire.  If  we  estimated  it  by  the  amount 
of  work  accomplished  by  the  beloved  guest  of  the 

296 


A   SERENE   OLD   AGE 

day  we  must  rank  her  with  the  antediluvians;  but 
if  we  judged  by  the  vigor  and  freshness  of  her  writ 
ings,  by  her  universal  sympathy  with  young  and 
old,  we  should  have  to  say  that  she  had  discovered 
the  fountain  of  perpetual  youth!  Then  he  spoke 
of  "Uncle  Tom,"  calling  it  the  "great  epic  of  our 
age";  his  trials,  and  the  victories  he  wrought  for 
this  epoch  were  to  be  our  Iliad  and  our  ^Eneid 
for  centuries  to  come.  He  then  ran  over  the  events 
of  Mrs.  Stowe's  life,  showing  how  it  had  all  been 
a  preparation  for  the  work  she  did;  the  New  Eng 
land  youth,  the  western  years  on  the  borders  of  a 
slave  state,  the  trials  and  the  disciplines.  With  such 
a  training,  he  said,  "who  can  wonder  that,  while 
sitting  at  the  communion  table  and  meditating  on 
the  infinite  sorrows  and  ignominy  of  Him  who 
gave  Himself  for  the  redemption  of  humanity,  she 
should  have  been  inspired  with  the  vision  of  another 
life  of  suffering  and  sacrifice,  by  which  a  race  should 
be  redeemed;  and  that  while  she  mused  the  fire 
burned,  and  from  the  white  heat  came  forth  the 
vivid  picture  of  the  death  of  that  other  man  of  sor 
rows,  so  like  its  great  prototype,  as  like  as  a  human 
copy  can  be  to  a  divine  original?"  Mr.  Houghton 
then  spoke  of  the  widespread  interest  and  the  many 
translations  of  the  book,  telling  how  "crowned 
heads,  statesmen,  scholars,  and  the  people  alike, 
have  read,  wept  over,  and  applauded  the  simple 
story."  He  also  referred  to  Mrs.  Stowe's  service 
to  American  literature  in  writing  the  tales  of  New 

297 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

England  life.  Although  these  alone,  he  said,  were 
sufficient  to  make  the  reputation  of  any  author,  they 
were,  in  his  opinion,  eclipsed  by  the  glory  of  "Uncle 
Tom." 

He  thought  that  her  friends  through  all  the  world 
ranked  her  with  the  Deborahs  and  Miriams  and 
Judiths  of  old,  and  when  she  sang  the  refrain, 
"Sing  ye  to  the  Lord,  for  He  hath  triumphed  glori 
ously,"  they  would  respond,  "The  Almighty  Lord 
hath  disappointed  them  by  the  hand  of  a  woman!" 
With  a  heartfelt  blessing  and  benediction,  the  ad 
dress  closed. 

After  this  an  address  was  made  by  that  beloved 
and  devoted  brother  of  Mrs.  Stowe's,  to  whom  she 
had  been  so  loyal  a  sister  and  friend  ever  since  the 
days  when  she  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him 
to  Ma'am  Kilbourne's  school.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  was  introduced  and  made  a  speech  full  of 
witticisms  and  good  feeling.  He  said  that  people 
accused  him  at  first  of  being  the  real  author  of 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin" ;  that  he  then  wrote  his  novel 
"Norwood,"  and  that  killed  this  rumor  dead!  He 
told  how  he  first  read  the  book  and  with  what 
tears.  Then  he  gave  a  most  wonderful  tribute  to 
his  father  and  his  mother,  saying  of  him  that,  while 
his  father  thought  he  was  great  by  his  theology, 
everybody  else  knew  that  he  was  great  by  his  re 
ligion;  and  of  his  mother,  that  the  daughter  Harriet 
was  most  like  her  in  graces  and  excellences,  though 
perhaps  not  in  bodily  presence. 

298 


A   SERENE    OLD   AGE 

Following  this  came  some  beautiful  poems  writ 
ten  for  the  occasion.  Mr.  Whittier's  was  the  most 
beautiful  of  these :  there  was  one  also  by  Dr. 
Holmes  which  was  full  of  his  exquisite  humor,  and 
there  were  others  by  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney  and 
Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  Mr.  J.  T.  Trowbridge, 
Mrs.  Fields,  and  one  by  Mrs.  Stowe's  daughter, 
Mrs.  Allen.  This  one  at  least  must  be  copied  here. 

A  child  came  down  to  earth 

Just  seventy  years  ago, 
And  round  its  form  the  angels  trod, 

Whispering  low, 
"  'Tis  an  instrument 
To  be  played  by  the  hand  of  God/' 

Time  sped  its  steadfast  way; 

The  child  grew  rosy  and  strong; 
Unconscious  she  sweetly  played, 

With  music  right 

And  discord  wrong 
The  song  that  God  had  made. 

The  notes  of  the  instrument  rose 

Sweeter  and  better  each  day, 
Till  it  sung  in  clearest  trumpet-tones 
"Cast  off  the  bond, 

Release  the  slave; 
'Tis  thy  brother  who  bleeds  and  groans ! 

"Oh,  hear  the  cry  of  the  wronged, 
The  hapless  children  of  God ! 
With  folded  hands  and  tearful  eyes, 
Hopeless  they  stand; 
Patient  and  meek, 
They  bow  and  kiss  the  rod." 
299 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

O'er  sea  and  mountain  and  shore, 

The  music  thundered  and  roared, 
Till  the  angels  in  heaven  reechoed  its  strain, 

And  the  love  of  man, 

With  the  mercy  of  God, 
Revived  in  our  hearts  again. 

Though  the  instrument's  feebler  grown, 
'Twill  sound  loud  and  full  until  death, 

Like  the  harp  with  its  strings  y£olian-blown, 
Rising  and  falling, 
Whispering  and  calling, 

With  the  strength  of  God's  own  breath. 

Among  other  speeches  was  one  by  her  brother 
Edward,  on  the  subject  of  the  favorable  influence 
of  the  works  of  his  sister  on  woman  suffrage. 

Then  it  was  announced  that  Mrs.  Stowe  would 
say  a  few  words.  She  arose  and  with  one  move 
ment  the  whole  audience  arose,  too,  in  reverence 
to  the  "little  wisp  of  a  woman"  who  stood  there, 
slightly  bowed  and  with  the  snowy  touch  upon  the 
waves  of  her  hair.  The  audience  listened  with 
eager  interest,  and  this  is  what  she  said:  "I  wish 
to  say  that  I  thank  all  my  friends  from  my  heart — 
that  is  all.  And  one  thing  more — and  that  is,  if 
any  of  you  have  doubt  or  sorrow  or  pain,  if  you 
doubt  about  this  world,  just  remember  what  God 
has  done;  just  remember  that  the  great  sorrow  of 
slavery  has  gone,  gone  forever."  Then  she  told 
how  happy  the  negroes  were  that  she  was  seeing 
all  the  time  about  her  in  her  home  in  Mandarin  in 

300 


A    SERENE    OLD   AGE 

Florida.  They  were  working,  building  for  them 
selves  little  houses;  and  they  were  happy — they 
knew  how  to  be  happy  even  better  than  white  folks, 
she  said.  To  be  sure,  they  had  faults — we  must  have 
patience  with  them.  But  they  were  doing  as  well 
as  possible,  and  were  justifying  the  confidence 
placed  in  them.  Then  she  added  those  significant 
words :  "Let  us  never  doubt ;  everything  that  ought 
to  happen  is  going  to  happen."  And  as  the  audience 
dispersed  they  carried  the  echo  of  these  brave  words 
with  them,  as  the  summing  up  of  the  whole  life's 
thought  of  the  good  and  great  woman  they  had 
come  there  to  honor. 

An  old  age  more  serenely  beautiful  than  that  of 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  could  scarcely  be  imagined. 
Honored  throughout  the  world,  happy  in  the  beau 
tiful  companionship  of  children  in  the  Hartford 
home,  she  passed  on  through  the  years,  living  in  a 
dream  world  full  of  happy,  loving  thoughts.  At 
one  time  she  said :  "I  thank  God  that  there  is  one 
thing  running  through  my  life  from  the  time  I  was 
thirteen  years  old.  It  is  the  intense  unwavering 
sense  of  God's  educative  guiding  presence  and 
care."  She  refers,  of  course,  to  that  Sabbath  when 
at  the  age  of  thirteen,  she  went  to  her  father  in 
his  study  and  told  him  about  her  new  sacred  hope. 
It  is  not  given  to  every  one  to  find  that  "one  un 
ceasing  purpose"  has  run  all  through  his  life.  To 
her  was  given  the  insight  to  realize  this.  She 
thought  so  much  about  the  life  of  the  spirit  that 

301 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

at  last  it  seemed  as  if  she  lived  even  more  in  the 
spirit  world  than  she  did  in  this.  Wonderful  dreams 
visited  her  soul  in  which  she  "knew  of  a  certainty" 
something  of  a  "vivid  spiritual  life  where  the  en 
thusiasm  of  love  is  the  calm  habit  of  the  soul,  where 
without  demonstrations  of  affection  heart  beats  to 
heart,  soul  answers  to  soul,  we  respond  to  the  In 
finite  Love  and  we  feel  His  answer  in  us  and  there 
is  no  need  of  words."  This  was,  she  said,  "but  a 
glimpse"  yet  it  had  "left  a  strange  sweetness  in  her 
mind." 

When  Mrs.  Stowe  was  about  seventy  years  old 
she  made  a  visit  to  Wellesley  College.  The  first 
time  that  I  ever  saw  her  she  was  sitting  in  the  seat 
of  honor  in  the  gallery  of  the  old  chapel.  To  me 
she  seemed  like  a  little  fairy  godmother  needing 
but  the  wings  of  gauze  to  be  made  into  a  real  vision. 
But  there  was  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  no  soulless 
fairy  ever  had.  As  she  leaned  upon  the  railing 
and  looked  out  over  the  audience  of  young  college 
girls,  gathered  there  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
and  throbbing  with  vivid  life,  a  look  of  wistful 
longing  came  over  her  face.  It  was  almost  as 
though  she  said,  "Ah,  if  this  had  but  happened  to 
me!"  As  she  viewed  that  college  life  so  wisely 
and  broadly  organized,  apparently  so  rich  in  op 
portunity,  she  may  have  felt  with  some  yearning 
that  these  young  women  were  realizing  powers  and 
opportunities  furnished  with  an  ease  that  had  been 
denied  to  her.  But  it  is  more  likely  that  without 

302 


A   SERENE    OLD    AGE 

any  sadness  or  any  reflection  upon  the  difficulties 
of  her  own  youthful  experience,  she  enthusiastically 
rejoiced  in  the  vigor,  the  happiness  and  the  promise 
of  power  she  saw  in  that  college  group,  and  that, 
with  her  characteristic  wistful  maternal  tenderness, 
she  yearned  only  for  the  fruition  of  that  promise. 
And  we  may  question  whether  she  would  have  had 
a  larger  life  or  a  greater  influence  if  she  had  lived 
at  a  later  time  and  had  had  the  training  that  is 
given  to  young  women  now.  As  it  was  she  used 
what  she  had  to  the  full.  Her  industry  was  inces 
sant.  Her  growth  was  constantly  forced  by  the  fire 
of  her  own  passion  for  attainment.  Then  came 
the  country's  crisis,  and  the  crisis  made  the  woman. 
But  it  would  never  have  made  the  woman  if  she 
had  not  stood  ready  to  be  made.  That  preparation 
we  have  seen  develop  step  by  step  in  this  story  of 
her  life. 

It  is,  therefore,  for  the  spirit  of  the  woman  be-  ^ 
hind  the  worker  that  we  are  most  sharply  indebted  ; 
for,  after  all,  it  is  an  even  greater  thing  to  live  a 
great  life  than  to  write  a  great  book.  Harriet  had  ( 
courage;  she  had  initiative.  She  was  overwhelm 
ingly  magnanimous,  she  was  utterly  true.  She  was 
true  to  that  part  in  us  that  grows,  as  well  as  to 
the  part  that  inherits  the  teaching  of  the  past.  She 
was  wise  enough  to  know  that  the  human  mind  and 
soul  must  be  always  impressionable,  always  open 
to  the  truth  as  well  as  staunch  in  defending  it.  She 
had  faith  in  herself  and  she  had  faith  in  God.  \ 

3°3 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 

;«Moreover,  it  was  because  of  her  faith  in  God  that 
she  had  that  faith  in  herself.  After  all,  then,  it 

I  was  her  perfect  confidence  in  God  that  was  the 
key-note  of  her  character.  "Let  us  never  doubt," 
she  said ;  "everything  that  ought  to  happen  is  going 
to  happen."  This  was  the  supreme  note  in  the  har 
mony  of  her  life. 


A  LIST   OF   MRS.    STOWE'S   BOOKS 

1833.  A  PRIMARY  GEOGRAPHY. 

1843.  THE  MAYFLOWER. 

1852.  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN. 

1853.  A  KEY  TO  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN. 

1853.  A  PEEP  INTO  UNCLE  TOM'S  CABIN  (for  children). 

1854.  SUNNY  MEMORIES  OF  FOREIGN  LANDS,  2  Vols. 

1855.  THE  CHRISTIAN  SLAVE.     Dramatization  of  Uncle 

Tom's  Cabin. 

1855.  A  GEOGRAPHY  FOR  MY  CHILDREN.     Published  in 

London. 

1856.  DRED,  A  TALE  OF  THE  GREAT  DISMAL  SWAMP. 

1858.  OUR  CHARLEY  AND  WHAT  TO  Do  WITH  HIM. 

1859.  GOLDEN    FRUIT    IN    SILVER    BASKETS.      Selection 

from  her  works,  published  in  England. 
1859.    THE  MINISTER'S  WOOING. 
1862.     THE  PEARL  OF  ORR'S  ISLAND,  A   STORY  OF  THE 

COAST  OF  MAINE. 

1862.  AGNES  OF  SORRENTO. 

1863.  REPLY  ON  BEHALF  OF  THE  WOMEN  OF  AMERICA  TO 

THE  CHRISTIAN  ADDRESS  OF  MANY  THOUSAND 
WOMEN  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

1864.  HOUSE  AND  HOME  PAPERS. 

1865.  LITTLE  FOXES. 

305 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 

1866.  NINA   GORDON    (formerly  DRED). 

1867.  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE. 

1867.  DAISY'S  FIRST  WINTER  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

1868.  THE  CHIMNEY  CORNER. 

1868.  MEN  OF  OUR  TIMES. 

1869.  OLDTOWN  FOLKS. 

1869.  THE  AMERICAN  WOMAN'S  HOME  (WITH  CATHER 

INE  BEECHER). 

1870.  LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW. 

1870.  LADY  BYRON  VINDICATED. 

1871.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  BYRON  CONTROVERSY. 
1871.  PINK  AND  WHITE  TYRANNY. 

1871.  SAM  LAWSON'S  OLDTOWN  FIRESIDE  STORIES. 

1872.  MY  WIFE  AND  I. 

1873.  PALMETTO  LEAVES. 

1873.  LIBRARY  OF  FAMOUS  FICTION. 

1875.  WE  AND  OUR  NEIGHBORS. 

1876.  BETTY'S  BRIGHT  IDEA  AND  OTHER  TALES. 
1876.  FOOTSTEPS  OF  THE  MASTER. 

1878.  BIBLE  HEROINES. 

1878.  POGANUC  PEOPLE. 

1881.  A  DOG'S  MISSION. 


INDEX 


ssi 


INDEX 


"Address"  to  Women  of 
America,  230,  259,  266,  271, 
272. 

Allen,  Mrs.,  see  Stowe,  Geor- 
giana  May. 

Anti-Slavery  Society  of  Glas 
gow,  299. 

"Arabian  Nights,"  74,  169. 

Baxter's  "Saints'  Best,"  110. 
Beecher  family,  ix-xii,  11,  153, 

226,  298. 
Beecher,  Catherine,  12,  22,  96- 

109,   146-152,   et  seq. 
Beecher,    Charles,    18,    27,    124, 

136,  201,  226,  296. 
Beecher,  David,  11. 
Beecher,  Dr.  Edward,  8,  18,  19, 

117,  124,  296,  300. 
Beecher,   Mrs.   Edward,   212. 
Beecher,  Esther,  12,  28,  34,  79, 

102-103,   126,   128,   143,   144, 

189. 
Beecher,  George,  18,   128,  130, 

226. 
Beecher,  Harriet  Elizabeth,  see 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher. 
Beecher,    Harriet    Porter,    126, 

128,  143,  144,  226. 
Beecher,   Henry   Ward,   18,   19, 

27,   33,   34,   35,   37,   60,   102, 

117,  124,  167,  198,  206,  212, 

226,  296,  298. 

Beecher,   Isabella    (Mrs.   Hook 
er),  18,  128,  296. 
Beecher,  James,  18,  128. 
Beecher,    Dr.    Lyman,    1,    3,   5, 

14,  17,  25,  28,  30,  39,  42-43, 

48,  63,  66,  71,  73-74,  78,  80, 


81,    98,    100,    111,    113,    115, 
117,  123,  126,  131,  155,  192, 
278,  298. 
Beecher,  Mary  (Mrs.  Perkins), 

18,  124,   130. 

Beecher,  Koxana  Foote,  7,  44, 
52,  54,  56,  57-62,  70,  77,  96, 
107,  151,  175,  298. 

Beecher,  Thomas  K.,  18,  128. 

Beecher,    William    Henry,    18, 

19,  124. 

Bible,  10,  14,  17,  73,  75,  81,  82, 

87,   103,  295. 
Biblical  Repository,  98. 
Border  State  Policy,  Lincoln's, 

268. 

Bowling  Green,  N.  Y.,  4. 
Brace,  J.  B.,  48. 
Bracelet,  shackle,  230. 
Bright,  John,  273. 
Browning,   E.   B.,   62,   79,   240, 

241,  261,  279. 
Bunyan's  Pilgrim,  72. 
Butler's   "Analogy,"  95,   110, 

160. 
Byron,  78,  79,  115,  169,  306. 

Carpet,  the  painted,  58. 
Chase,  S.  P.,  159,  262. 
Christian  Observer,  70,  77. 
Cincinnati,    122,    133-143,    146- 

152,  186,  197,  200,  202. 
Civil  War,  193,  242-273. 
Claflin,  Hon.  and  Mrs.,  296. 
"Cleon"     (unfinished    drama), 

vii,  90,  115. 

Colonization  Society,  199. 
"Columbian  Orator,"  38. 
Cutler,  George  Younglove,  86. 


3°9 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE 


Dame  School,  18,  32,  34,  36-37, 

298. 

Dickens,    131,  135,  137,  215. 
"Don  Quixote,"  74,  169. 

Easthampton,  25,  58,  194. 
Edgeworth 's,    Miss,    "Frank," 

77. 

Edwards,  J.,  75,  98. 
Eliot,  George,  236,  241,  278. 
Emancipation         Proclamation, 

255-271. 

Emerson,  216,  296. 
Emma  Willard  School,  40,  151, 

152. 
England,    relations    of    U.    S. 

with,  157,  260,  261,  271,  273. 

Fisher,  A.  M.,  99. 

Fields,  Mrs.,  vii,  236,  299. 

Foote,  Eev.  John,  55. 

Foote,  J.  P.,  133. 

Foote,  Lucinda  (Mrs.  Corn 
wall),  54,  151. 

Foote,  Eoxana,  see  Beecher, 
Eoxana  Foote. 

Foote,  Samuel  E.,  68,  77.  121, 
133,  158,  162. 

Garrison,  211,  216. 

Gladstone,  279. 

"Go    down,    Moses,"    250-251, 

272. 
Guilford,  Conn.,  viii,  2,  12,  37, 

54,  68-69,  117,  124,  130,  134, 

195,  290. 

Harrison,  Gen.,  139-140. 
Helps,  Sir  Arthur,  274. 
Holmes,    Dr.,    219,   271,   296. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  Co.,  vii,  296. 
Howe,  J.  W.,  217. 
Howells,  W.  D.,  221. 
Hubbard,  Mrs.   Mary,   69,   192. 

Irving,  W.,  69. 

"Jephtha's   Daughter,"  84-86. 
Jesus  Christ,  119,  289,  297,  306. 


"John      the      Baptist,      Old," 
freedman,  254. 

Kilbourne,    Ma'am,    see    Dame 

School. 
Kingsley,  Charles,  215,  236. 

Lane      Theological      Seminary, 

124,  143,  171,  199. 
Lawson,  Sam,  173,  282-293. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  46,  159,  244, 

258-273. 
Litchfield,    Conn.,    1-6,    20,    69, 

70,    85,    124,    133,    164,    192, 

195,   276. 
Litchfield  Female  Academy,  40- 

43,  45,  62,  84. 

Macaulay,  70,  215,  236. 

"Magnolia,"   278. 

Martineau,    H.,    135,    137,    138. 

May,  Georgiana,  104,  et  seq. 

Milton,   75,   81. 

Mt.   Holyoke  Seminary,   40. 

National  Era,  The,  215. 

New  England  life,  1-8,  25,  39, 

274-293,   275. 
Novels,  80,  115. 

Ohio,  106. 

Ohio  Eiver,  127,  132,  176. 

Partridge,   Mrs.  H.  C.,  viii. 
Pierce,  Miss  Sally,  40,  76. 
Phelps,  E.  S.,   296,   299. 
Plays  in  Litchfield,  84-87. 
Plutarch's  Lives,   88. 
Primer,  New  England,  35. 

"Queen  Esther,"  87. 

"Eeply"     to     English     "Ad 
dress,"  260,  266,  271,  272. 
"Eobinson  Crusoe,"  75. 
Euskin,  236. 
"Euth,"  87. 


3IO 


INDEX 


Sabbath    in    New    England,    5, 
19,   60,  276. 

Sand,  George,  217,  218,  221. 

San  Domingo,  56,  192. 

Scott,   76-78,   80,   84,   169,  220. 

Semi-colon  Club,  158,  159. 

Shaftesbury,  Earl  of,  215. 

Shakespeare,  75,  83,  292. 

"Sir   Charles   Grandison,"   75. 

Slavery,   188-222,  255. 

Spiritualism,  241. 

Stiles,  President  Ezra,  55,  280. 

Stowe,  Rev.  C.  E.,  vii,  47,  118, 
173,  211,  222,  248,  262,  296. 

Stowe,  Eliza  Taylor,  173. 

Stowe,  Frederick  William,  173, 
247,  256,  258,  271,  294. 

Stowe,  Georgiana  May  (Mrs. 
Allen),  173,  293,  296,  299. 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  por 
traits  of,  viii,  225-227,  257; 
chronological  outline  of  life 
of,  xi-xii;  early  home  of, 
1-31;  character  of,  4,  8,  38, 
72,  102,  104,  115,  120,  121, 
134,  177,  188,  225,  227,  232, 
236,  268,  303;  family  of,  7, 
18,  21,  72;  religious  influ 
ences  of,  17,  18,  110-121,  301, 
302;  education  of,  32-109; 
in  Cincinnati,  see  Cincinnati; 
literary  life  of,  161-184;  lit 
erary  art  of,  162,  169,  220, 
264,  275,  281;  as  a  home- 
maker,  171-184;  in  Bruns 
wick,  172,  175,  211,  see  also 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and 
Slavery;  travels  of,  223-243; 
at  Andover,  241;  services  of, 
273,  274,  278,  297;  at  Hart 
ford,  294-300;  in  Florida, 
294,  300;  public  honors  ten 


dered  to,  295;  serene  old  age 

of,  294-304;  works  of,  70-82, 

305-306. 
Stowe,    Harriet    B.,    173,    248, 

262. 
Stowe,    Henry   Ellis,    173.   246, 

257,  270. 

Stowe,  Lyman  Beecher,  vii. 
Stowe,     Samuel     Charles,     173, 

187,   270. 

Suffrage,  Woman's,  300. 
Sun-dial  inscription,   121. 

Tarbell,  Ida,  150. 
Thanksgiving,  30,  143,  244-246. 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  188- 
214,  222,  264,  269,  274,  278, 
296-298;  influence  of,  216- 
219,  256. 

Underground  railway,  197. 

Vanderpoel,  Miss  E.  N.,  40,  63, 

85. 

Vanzandt,  206. 
Victoria,  Queen,  228. 
Villard,  Mrs.  Henry,  216. 

Washington    in    1862,    243-244, 

265. 

Weld,  Theodore,  199. 
Wellesley  College,  303. 
Wesley,  J.,  233. 
West,  the,  in  1832,  123. 
Western     Monthly     Magazine, 

159,  163,  170. 

Whittier,  217,  219,  280,  296. 
Woman  suffrage,  300. 
Women,     New     England,     150, 

151. 

Women  of  U.  S.,  237. 
Woodspell,  25-29. 


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